Naughty Elisabetta
by SixThings
Summary: Half English/Half French Lisette runs halfway across the world to escape marriage the oily Mr. Collins. Singing, fun & frivolity. High seas adventure, a hurricane, kissing, Captain D'Arcy & misunderstandings! And Lisette/Lottie/Louis/Elisabetta depending on the disguise at the time. Melodrama. "You are the captain, how would we marry, you cannot perform the ceremony yourself!"
1. Chapter 1

**1785**

 _My passion is as mustard strong,  
_ _I sit all sober sad;  
_ _Drunk as a piper all day long,  
_ _Or like a March hare mad._

Chapter 1

A tune was pushing itself around in her mind but it was only the beginning scraps of a tune, just a few bars, not an entire melody. Lisette found it provocative and annoying at the same time. She walked at a quick pace as she neared Longbourn, sneaking through a hole in a hedgerow to save her time from walking around the road. She spied the tall walls that surrounded the estate and denoted the house proper and the formal gardens and all their beauties. There was no way to scale the tall stone walls and she had to use one of the entrances, either the formal front entrance or work her way around the back to the smaller gate there. The east wall had a gate too, but Lisette had no wish to walk all that way. Her mother should not have missed her overly much. There was no one expected to call that particular afternoon.

A hello was called to her, a kittenish hello from a large ginger cat with slightly whitish stripes on his sides. He was outside the walls hidden in the shrubbery and she reached down to scratch at his head and his ears and under his chin. Le Poisson was the family cat, if there could be such a thing as a family cat, he lived around Longbourn and had been adopted and christened by the Bennet daughters when they were younger and full of mirth and thought that naming a cat "fish" was a hilarious joke. She gave him a final scratch and then left him to his activities and continued on her way.

The front gate had double doors and both stood wide open as she neared them rather than the left-hand gate standing open as was usual most days. Lisette frowned and cooled her pace as she untied her strings and then stopped short of the entrance. The double doors only needed to be both be open if a carriage was to be pulled to the front entrance of Longbourn and if no one was expected she had two guesses as to the visitor: her cousin or Mrs. Lucas. Neither was a welcome addition to her afternoon. She sighed, walked to the opening along the property wall and spied a phaeton and a sad-eyed pony in front of the house. Her cousin.

She took off her hat and let it swing from one hand as she walked up to the little shaggy-coated friend and spoke to him in soothing terms. He eyed her mournfully as he always did as though pleading with her to find him a new master.

"I am sorry if he is so poor at the reins and uses the whip," and she smoothed his mane and kissed his forehead. There were no more grooms at Longbourn so no one to tend to the pony while the Reverend Collins came to visit. Lisette ran her hands along the tracings to ensure they were not tangled and then gave the little pony one more kiss before she opened the door and entered her house.

Hillard was not inside the door to greet her as she expected. She threw her hat and gloves on a table and stood to listen though she knew exactly where Mrs. Bennet and the Reverend Collins would be having afternoon tea: the east parlor. Lisette patted her hair and made her way to the north wing of the house.

She opened the door and entered to a scene mostly anticipated: her mother dressed in lavender with frills and lace sitting in front of her tea set with their cousin sitting across from her in his somber clothes with his cup on one knee and his carriage whip across the other.

"Greetings Cousin Collins, Mamma," she said as she stepped into the room.

"I wondered where you got to dear, I suppose Hillard found you?" queried her mother who began to pour a cup of tea for her. The Reverend Collins had launched to his feet, saving his tea cup but his whip clattered to the floor and he turned to smile at her.

"Dearest Cousin Lisette! A pretty picture as always that dress is quite delightful if I may say," and he worked himself between his chair and the one next to it and came to claim her hand, to bow over it and then to kiss it. "I suppose this means you have given up mourning for your uncle?" He retained her hand while he looked up at her over it with his English blue eyes.

"This dress is an old one, Sir, I happened to wear it so as to not spoil my proper clothes when I went for a stroll," she pulled her hand free and used both of them to pull up the hem of her dress to show the length of mud that was attached to the hem. In places it had splattered up almost six inches onto the sprigged muslin.

He captured her hand again and began leading her to the seat next to his, "come now, I do believe it has been longer than three months since your uncle passed on to higher things, surely it is time to leave off your mourning?"

"You are correct, cousin, Uncle Philips passed on in February and it is now May if all the foliage is to be believed, thank you, Mamma," she took her cup of tea from her mother and sat down in the chair next to her cousin, the Reverend Collins.

"I have gone to half-mourning, do you see Reverend Collins?" said Mrs. Bennet indicating her lavender dress though the amount of frilled lace on the sleeves and her overlay of frilly shawls made it difficult to truly discern the color of her bodice beneath the cream of her lace.

"I had noted you were a picture of spring when I entered, ma'am," he replied as he sat down and once again perched his tea cup on his knee. Lisette hoped he would forget his whip at his feet. He turned to his younger cousin. "You, mademoiselle, are always a picture of spring even when in your blacks. It is noble of you to mourn your uncle even these extra weeks though you need only have been in black for three months you know, my plum cake."

"He was a well-loved man; one whose intelligence and wit I truly appreciated. He taught me to laugh. It has been a difficult time you know, Cousin Collins, losing such a loving and loved man so soon after Mamma lost her dear sister," and Lisette turned to look at her mother who seemed quiet and perfectly willing to let her daughter and her husband's cousin carry the conversation.

"Losing Amandine last summer was difficult, most difficult," said Mrs. Bennet is a soft voice. "Your grand-mère and I are still a wee bit in shock," she then seemed to think or recall some memory and shaking her head looked at her audience and asked, "More tea?"

"Thank you, Mamma," and Lisette handed her cup over.

"I believe, however, that," and her cousin paused to look at Lisette, "there can be no _harm_ now in beginning to plan for the wedding." He held his hands up against any protestations though none came from either woman. "It would not be for a while yet; we would want the best venue and need to ensure that the church of our choosing is available. It should be one of the biggest weddings of the year; one of the biggest in London," his eyes glazed over as he imagined the lavish society wedding of his dreams, with his dear cousin Lisette.

Lisette pursed her lips. For almost a year she had managed to stave off the planning of the wedding between her and her cousin, the Reverend Collins—sanctioned by her father—but she had now run out of reasons to put him off.

Her mother's sister, Mrs. Philips, Tante Amandine, had passed away in August. It had been a blow to both her mother and herself as they had been close to her aunt who lived on a neighboring estate close enough to Longbourn that she had been able to visit as the whim took her and when their stables were larger.

Mrs. Philips had never been blessed with children so she had been a most indulgent aunt and welcomed Lisette and her sisters whenever the confines of Longbourn became too much and they wished to saddle a horse and ride over. Lisette had been a special favorite with them, perhaps because Tante Amandine had been, like Lisette, the middle child, or perhaps because she simply came to Pickneybush as often as she did and filled in that role of child of the house.

Mr. Philips too loved Lisette and took her under his wing to teach her beyond what was allowed by her mother and governesses, books and map learning, and even to the basics of shooting a firearm: a small fowler he found that fit in her hand as though it were a glove. Mr. and Mrs. Philips had been a second mother and father to her and she had mourned them deeply. Society only sanctioned three months for an aunt or an uncle while a parent was given a year.

"It feels so," and she tried to find one more excuse to stave off the march towards her wedding day.

"It feels so right, you are correct my dear," and her cousin reached over and clasped her hand. In doing so he lost control of his tea cup which clattered to the floor spilling its contents. He noticed his whip and picked it up and placed it beside him in his chair.

"I should have someone clean that up," said Mrs. Bennet who simply sat and stared at the tea on the carpet.

"Let me ring, Mamma," said Lisette and she pulled her hand free and stood to pull the bell chord. Hillard appeared moments later.

"Mr. Collins, Sir, you wished me to remind you of the time," the butler said bowing to his future master.

"Thank you, Hill," said Reverend Collins as he stood to bow to Mrs. Bennet and then to bow to Lisette. "I have some engagements this evening, my plum, but I shall come again tomorrow for us to begin our plans," and he left, tapping his whip against his boot with every other stride.

"Please have someone clean up Mr. Collins' spilled tea," said Mrs. Bennet as she rose.

"Mamma," said Lisette, "Why? Why are you out of mourning?" Her tone bordered on pleading.

Mrs. Bennet turned back to the last remaining daughter in the house. "Your father asked me to, Babette, he asked me to." She turned away and walked to the parlor door. No maid had come yet to clean or take away the tea service. "You know he has wanted this marriage for, well, since his disappointment," and she turned and walked through the door.

Lisette stared at the partially open door and then closed her eyes. Her fists balled at her sides and she stood attempting to contain her emotions within until a servant came in and she splayed her hands out, gathered her skirts in both hands, nodded sweetly and left.


	2. Chapter 2

_One kind kiss before we part,  
_ _Drop a tear and bid adieu:  
_ _Though we sever, my fond heart  
_ _Till we meet shall pant for you._

 _Yet, yet, weep not so my love.  
_ _Let me kiss that falling tear,  
_ _Though my body must remove.  
_ _All my soul will still be here._

 _All my soul and all my heart,  
_ _And every wish shall pant for you;  
_ _One kind kiss then ere we part.  
_ _Drop a tear and bid adieu?_

 _—Robert Dodsley_

Chapter 2

Lisette waited for fifteen minutes after her maid had left her that night. She then turned to a plain trunk that had a candelabrum and some books stacked on it along one wall of her room. She fished through its contents—once she unlocked it—and pulled out some breeches, a double-breasted coat, stockings and shoes. She pulled her nightdress off over her head and pulled the breeches on, then the coat, and fitted the stockings on with garters. She stuffed her feet in the shoes and then frowned as she patted her head. A second search yielded a soft felt hat that was then perched on her head. Her braided hair hung down her back but Lisette was unconcerned about this detail.

She took the single candelabrum and cracked open her door and headed for the servant's stairs. There was no noise coming from down below that reached up to her and she padded her way down the two flights, stopping when she neared the ground floor. Still no sound assaulted her ears so she kept on, coming to the passage that would take her to the kitchen in one direction, out to the family living areas through a closed inner door, or out to the back courtyard through another. She unlatched the outside door and exited the house.

The path to the stables was well-worn for all that there had been no grooms for almost two years now. She knew it by heart and traced it quickly and silently. The hinges of the barn squeaked like they always did but the warmth that hit her was so comforting that Lisette did not mind that one or two seconds she might get caught. The lingering smell of horses and hay was so delightful to her senses it smelled to her like others might think of perfume or cake.

Her father's horse, one of the few not sold—because of course, _he_ must have a horse—stood waiting for her as if he knew he was needed. She opened his stall cooing to him and patting his back. She put his bridle on him but did not saddle him, leading him outside after blowing out her candle. As if Mr. Bennet knew her far too well, the mounting block had been dismantled, but Lisette led Rhys to a fence and used that to climb aboard and woman and horse set off at a walk to Lucas Lodge.

It was a familiar pathway and the night was cooperative providing some moon and few clouds so she could see. Lucas Lodge had two lights burning at the gatehouse but Lisette slipped off Rhys and led him around to the back of the house, avoiding the front and the gatehouse and crotchety Mr. Taylor who was so prone to drinking.

She tied Rhys up where there was a small white gate in the otherwise unpainted wooden fence and entered the back yard. The dirt yard yielded a some small pebbles and she palmed a few as she made her way to it, lucky that it was such a small house, just the ground floor and the floor above for the family—though there were, she supposed, servant's quarters in the attic. Lisette stopped at one end of the building and threw one of her pebbles at the window where it missed, hitting just below the frame. Her second ticked against the glass and she held the others in reserve to see if she got any results. After five minutes she threw a third just in time to see a match flash and then a candle appear at the window. The window swung wide.

"Sir Llewellyn," said a male voice from on high.

"St. John," said Lisette.

"Give me five minutes," said the voice and the small lightness disappeared within the room. Lisette dropped her remaining pebbles and wiped her palms on her breeches and scooted away from the proximity of the house to the fence line and closer to a tree which provided shadows from the half-moon above. Because she was listening for it she heard the bolt drawn back in the door and then footsteps come towards her. The man was a little taller than average height, his hair darker than blond but not so dark as to be raven-haired but it was difficult to tell in the moonlight; Lisette knew it was a muddy, mousey brown quite like hers if viewed in the day. His eye color was impossible to tell as well in this light, but he had a smile on his face; one, however, that worried those nondescript eyes.

"It has been almost nine months since you have come knocking at my window in the dead of night," he held out his hand and she took it. "I take it something is troubling you?"

"Yes," and then she faltered.

"Do you wish to sit?" he offered, still with her hand captured in his.

"That would not be wise, it rained for four days straight," she sniffed. "I have run out of excuses to put off my father and my…cousin." It was dark under their tree and they could not really see anything of each other.

"I know they are being most insistent about this alliance," he said and squeezed her hand.

"My world has changed so much in the last two years, John! It is so unfair. I could never have envisioned this, never! When you think about your sister getting married you think it to be a joyous event."

"It was when Jeannette married her Mr. Bingley," he soothed.

"Yes, but then for Lydie to run off with one of father's grooms the day after! Everyone was making merry from Jeannette's wedding breakfast and no one seemed to miss her, which was the whole idea, I suppose," and her voice rose. He reached over and captured her other hand.

"What are you doing?" Lisette cried.

"This was about the point where you started pounding me in the chest at the unfairness of it all the last time we spoke about it. It hurt; I was just attempting to stave off any bruising," and he smiled at her in the dim light.

"But can I still talk about how much I miss riding and I miss Clover?" she asked looking at him and grinning.

"You may," he said but he did not relinquish her hands.

She sighed but looked down at the entirely dark space between them instead. "Perhaps we should have run off to Gretna Green when we were sixteen, John. I would be married to you and not having to face that slimy, odious, cruel man as a husband-to-be," she squeezed his hands sharply.

He stiffened as she spoke. "Lisette, we still can," he said finally.

It was her turn to hold her breath and ponder all those possibilities. When she and John were sixteen they had fancied themselves in love and thought to run away to Gretna Green to marry but never found the courage to leave home and fly all the way from Kent to Scotland to actually do the deed. They had been best friends since childhood, full of life and vigor for the outdoors, riding together whenever they could escape from their tutor or governess and finally turning to escaping late at night in sport, developing the personalities of St. John Kentish and Sir Llewellyn Jones. St. John was a great man, a leader, and Sir Llewellyn the same. Her father hated the Welsh so she had adopted a Welsh persona to spite him. Mr. Bennet did not, however, have any qualms with having a Welsh name for his mount—sitting on a Welshman or having him be a beast of burden was perfectly acceptable.

"Perhaps if I can think of no other plan," and she looked up at him. "I would hate to drag you into this and ruin your life," she rarely cried in front of John Lucas, he was more of a confederate, a brother-figure than a lover, but tears came unexpectedly.

His father, Sir William Lucas had made enough money in trade to retire and set up to live as a gentleman. He wished the same for his sons. The oldest, named William as well, would be his inheritor, but he loved John and wished for him to be a clergyman. John had just finished school and was to receive his ordination soon and was looking for a living. Eloping with Mr. Thomas Bennet, Esq.'s daughter would greatly hinder his plans. Clergymen should at all times act respectably. No one would look kindly on a clergyman who eloped rather than be married properly with the banns read and with the marriage sanctioned by both families. No one would give John Lucas a living if Mr. Bennet turned his wrath against him to ensure he was censured.

Her hands were dropped but he pulled her into his arms to hold her while she cried. It had to have been an odd picture, should anyone have come upon them in the dark, one man comforting another.

Lisette had not cried for herself for a long while; she had cried for Tante Amandine and for Uncle Philips on many a night when she lay awake and alone in her bed—when there was no one to hear her sobs since there were no sisters in her part of the house. But she wept tears on John's waistcoat for herself tonight, something she had tried so hard not to do since Lydie had first run away and ruined her life.

"She was horribly selfish to elope with that groom, Gaspard, did she not know it would break Papa's heart to have her gone?" she sobbed. "He has hardened his heart and it has made him a tyrant. And it has all fallen on me, his hatred and his resentment," she wailed and he patted her back.

"Lisette," and then he made soothing noises while she cried.

"And Mamma bows to him so he will continue to be kind to her and agree to let her see Jeannette and her family. She has quite given up on me; I have no one who loves me, John, no one," she pulled back to look up at him to see a concerned face looking down at her.

"You have me, Lisette; you know that, you always have me and Charlotte. And your grand-mère as well," he said while he patted her back with one hand. "Have you spoken to your grandfather again? Will he take your side?"

She shook her head and wiped her cheeks with one hand. "I do not suppose any of your sisters cry so much or look so awful when they do it?" He let go of her completely.

"First of all, it is too dark to see you at all so I cannot comment on your appearance but you are always beautiful, Lisette, you have to know that." He tapped her hat in playfulness. He turned to look at the house. "And all of my sisters cry, Maria, Susan and Diana, they weep copious tears all the time. Charlotte is select and discreet, but I have seen her cry. She cries tears of worry when she worries over a friend," he ended looking back at Lisette. She looked at him and took in a deep breath.

"I appreciate the friendship and support both of you have given me," she said and then looked down at the darkness of their feet. "John, what am I to do? I cannot marry that man and I have no more reasons to put off the wedding."

An owl in the tree overhead called down to them and startled them; Lisette jumped and then slipped on the wet grass. John caught her and clasped her in his arms again.

"My offer stands that we can run away to Gretna Green," he said; his voice deeper suddenly.

The small bit of that tune was in her mind then that had teased her that afternoon; those few bars that simply taunted her stopping suddenly without carrying on, not rolling to a sweet conclusion. She ran her hands over his chest and he pulled her to him to kiss her. They had shared many kisses during that summer of infatuation; many stolen kisses when their parents were so caught up in their older children and planning their futures. Jeannette was to have a season in London and William Lucas the son was to possibly do the same. This kiss was different, more mature, more thrilling, and she snaked her hands around him as they held each other and kissed for many heartbeats.

"Lisette…" he whispered.

The tune still whirled unfinished in her head as she looked up at John. She put one hand up to his cheek and could feel bristles there. "I promise you I will not marry that odious man and will take you up on your offer if I cannot find any other way to prevent it." She rubbed his chin and smiled at the feel of his whiskers it was a new sensation to her; he did not have a beard when he was sixteen. "I do not wish to bring you down with my own problems John. I will not ruin your life if I can help it."

He took in a deep breath then and kissed her forehead, and he let her go.


	3. Chapter 3

_My Goddess Lydia, heavenly fair.  
_ _As lilies sweet, as soft as air;  
_ _Let loose thy tresses, spread they charms.  
_ _And to ray love give fresh alarms._

 _O let me gaze on those bright eyes.  
_ _Though sacred lightning from them flies:  
_ _Show me that soft that modest grace,  
_ _Which paints with charming red they face._

Chapter 3

Lydie Bennet had been his baby, his joy, and she had been spoiled and pampered with her blond curls and her blue eyes, taking after her father in looks when Jeannette and Lisette had their mother's French coloring—Mrs. Bennet with her pale skin and dark hair. Jeannette was such a beauty, raven-dark hair but her father's blue eyes. Mr. Bennet had often joked he would never have to dower her for he could auction her off and men would pay _him_ for such a treasure. It was a comment that never sat well with Lisette. There was sixty thousand pounds to be settled on the three daughters and it had surprised him that Jeannette had lasted an entire London season without being "auctioned off," but she was of such a sweet nature and a sweet heart and was determined, she told Lisette, to only marry for love. And so she did, at the beginning of her second season she meet a straight-forward, amiable English gentleman by the name of Mr. Charles Bingley and fell in love.

It had seemed so romantic that summer two years past, all the planning for such a large and lavish wedding. Lisette was not the type to mind the focus being elsewhere, to not be the center of attention; she preferred that, actually, to being under the thumb of either of her parents. Mrs. Bennet had been ecstatic about her beloved and favorite child's marriage and had poured herself into all the details, capturing Lady Lucas into her schemes to help her. William Lucas the son had yet to find a bride; Mrs. Lucas had despaired of her plain, oldest daughter, Charlotte, ever marrying so she had been happy to help. Mr. William Lucas had spent the previous year in London but come home empty-handed. He had declined returning for a second year and seemed to be happy to bide his time at home with books. Neighbors supposed that as he was just past twenty and the heir, he could be at his leisure to marry.

Papa had been pleased with the match with Mr. Bingley and he had dutifully given Jeannette her share of the money set aside for their dowries: twenty thousand pounds. The entire neighborhood had looked forward to the sumptuous wedding that was being planned at the local church, St. Albans. It was their local parish church and had christened, married and buried generations of Bennets and the decrepit Reverend White was set to marry Jeannette and Mr. Bingley that September and everyone had been so happy about it. Lisette even once thought she had seen her dour and serious-minded father whom she thought never had a witty or amused bone in his body actually smile at the thought of his oldest and most beautiful creation to marry.

The Reverend White was old. He wheezed when he talked; he could barely walk from the church doors to the altar and everyone hoped he would live long enough to marry Jeannette and Mr. Bingley. Jeannette had wanted to be married from home, from her home church, and not from some large London church which had been suggested and encouraged by both her father and her mother or from Mr. Bingley's home church. Bingley was from the north of England and Mr. Bennet scoffed at his background, found that he had thought little of being from the north of England for all that he had a great deal of money to his name; Mr. Bingley did not have money _and_ land as Mr. Bennet did and land that provided him with such an income and such society as to be well-respected, the most esteemed gentleman in the area.

Mr. Bennet had seniority in all ways, though not in rank, the Earl of Pett was the highest ranking man. Mr. Bennet had more income and a larger estate than the Earl, though perhaps the Earl's title had been established before Crispin Bennet had settled in the south of England, in Kent, and set up his own little dynasty of Bennets in a long line a couple hundred years past. The Earl had his land and his title but he did not have much money. Some thought it was a shame that he had young sons, two small boys, not even old enough to go to school, therefore not old enough to marry the Bennet daughters so there was no alliance to be had there. Mr. Bennet did not in any way value his neighbor, the Earl of Pett and often made cutting remarks about the man.

The only thing he perhaps coveted was that the Earl had influence over who had the living at St. Albans. It irked Mr. Bennet that there was one little item he did not have control over in the area so that when the Rev. White did succumb to old age, and there would be no one left to mourn him, his wife had been gone for thirty years at least and his children had predeceased him for none of them had survived infancy; Mr. Bennet wished to be able to determine who would be the next vicar for St. Albans.

Jeannette had married her husband at St. Albans and the wedding breakfast had been lavish, as had been promised to the neighbors. The couple set off for London in the early afternoon and the festivities carried on at Longbourn through the day and into the afternoon and well into the evening. It seemed as if half of the cellars of Longbourn had been brought up and shared among the guests who could be found in any of the rooms of the estate or outside in any of the formal gardens, all laid out, French-style. Laughter and voices and whispers and singing had been heard all that evening and night and it was one of Lisette's last happy memories, that evening of frivolity and fun and being tipsy the evening after Jeannette had married and escaped their family home.

She had laughed and talked and whispered with her friends. And when applied to, she did not protest as she usually did, but agreed to sing and was led by Charlotte to the music room and many crowded around to hear her. She had smiled at that, at her admirers—men and women—coming to hear her, knowing she had a beautiful voice and that they would stop their merry-making to come listen to her. She had sat and played and sang a number of tunes, some she was sure Papa would not approve of, but ones which made the guests smile. There had been a great deal of applause, heartened perhaps by the excess of wine consumed, but she had been pleased by their response and had nodded and smiled at her admirers.

 _The streams that wind amid the hills  
_ _And lost in pleasure slowly roam.  
_ _While their deep joy the valley fills—  
_ _Ev'n these will leave their mountain-home;  
_ _So may it, love with others be.  
_ _But I will never wend from thee._

 _The leaf forsakes the parent spray.  
_ _The blossom quits the stem as fast.  
_ _The rose-enamour'd bird will stray,  
_ _And leave his eglantine at last;  
_ _So may it love with others be,  
_ _But—I will never wend from thee._

Charlotte and John had been there. And their other sister who was out in society, Maria, and they had been carefree, eating the delicacies provided and whisking about the house and being unconcerned about their futures as the moment had been wonderful and everything.

Lisette had not peeled her eyes open until after the noon hour the next day which was against her usual habit of waking early. Perhaps that should have been a sign of things to come. Her head had ached so she had been slow to rise and announce her presence; there had been no plans for that day and as she lay in bed she realized with some sorrow that Jeannette was truly gone and was to nevermore return. It would be just her and Lydie at home. Lydie with her English looks and her high spirits who could always get their Papa to agree to anything she wished for.

Each parent had a strong preference for one of their children but it had not bothered Lisette overly much. She had the love of her Uncle and Aunt Philips and her grand-mère, Mamma and Tante Amandine's mother, who resided with the Philipses. In some ways, it meant that Lisette had a much greater independent spirit than her sisters. She had sought her own comforts outside of the family home, in her connections with the Lucas family. Lisette had considered that she might have been the first to marry and leave since she had the weakest ties—and there had been that youthful idea of marrying John—but Jeannette was so lovely it was perhaps inevitable with her being the oldest that she would marry first. Mrs. Bennet might, perhaps, go live with Jeannette and Mr. Bingley for some months of the year if her father would permit it. Lisette could not see that either the mother or the daughter could bear the separation for years on end as happened sometimes with marriages.

And Lydie, Lydie would have to marry a man from Kent for Papa would never agree to anything else. He adored her so much that there was no one he could ever consider for her, she supposed. Lisette was sure he wished for a Duke. She had frowned then, and thought of their dowry and wondered if he would be so cruel as to give all of their dowry money to Lydie and give Lisette little or none of it. For forty thousand pounds, Lydie might just get a Duke for a husband. Lydie was pretty enough and had the spirits to match and would look lovely on a Duke's arm and bear him handsome children.

Lisette had risen that day of awakening and come downstairs to eat and then gone to the stables to ride to attempt to rid her head of its aches and clear the fog that still settled there in the corners from the long night and the drinking and chattering voices that seemed to leave a residue in her mind.

The stable door creaked as it always did when she opened it to find her father's figure in the long hallway that fronted the stalls.

"Where is he?" yelled her father. Three grooms stood at stiff attention, shoulder to shoulder in front of the stalls.

"I've not seen him since yesterday mornin'," said Tom. Mr. Bennet looked from him in the middle to Bill on his side and frowned.

"Same," said Bill. The master's head whipped over to Lem who kept his eyes facing front.

"Mr. Lemuel?" said Mr. Bennet, "have you seen Georges Gaspard since yesterday morning?"

The groom blinked and then looked over at Lisette, noticing her just inside the barn, and then back at his master.

"I saw Georges saddlin' Mistress Lisette's horse in t' late afternoon," and he blinked again.

Lisette watched as her father curled his fingers inward and then stretched them back out again but otherwise showed nothing else in his posture.

"You are dismissed," he said.

The grooms nodded, relaxing, and began to walk back to their chores.

"You can see Mr. Sanders about your pay. I will be generous enough to pay you for a full day today but I want you three to leave now," said Mr. Bennet and he turned and walked passed her without acknowledging her in any way.

That was her first indication that Lydie had slipped the bonds of the family home as well as Jeannette, leaving Lisette alone with their father, alone to discover a temper she did not know he had.

Lisette had run to the grooms and expressed her sorrow at the situation, run to the stall to confirm that Clover was indeed missing and then wondered what this meant. First considering that the handsome Georges Gaspard was a horse thief. Lydie's horse was missing as well.

All of the Longbourn grooms were young and tall and handsome—like the footman inside the house were—that was a requirement. There were only so many sets of livery. Her father had liked his compliment of tall grooms following him or accompanying his daughters if they were out riding. It had never occurred to him that one of his progeny would consider running away with a groom. To his mind it was like marrying the dog, or a Welshman. He could not conceive of it, so he had never put anything in place to prevent it; it was a situation many could say he created himself. He had raised a spoiled, pampered daughter who was given anything she wanted; he hired only handsome, tall, young grooms, firing them when they reached the age of twenty. He set his daughters in the saddle at the age of five and encouraged them to ride whenever they chose and insisted a groom accompany them. So if Lydie wanted that groom day and night and in the form of a husband, who was to blame?

Lydie Bennet and Georges Gaspard did not fly to Gretna Green. That flight might have been curtailed; Mr. Bennet might have caught up with them. No, they had crossed over the Channel and fled to France. Georges had originally come from France and had family there and the couple seemed perfectly at ease to flee without the benefit of marriage. Once Mr. Bennet confirmed they had crossed the Channel he stopped looking. No London season to imagine for her in two years when it was her time for her coming-out. There would be no Duke or Duke's son for his Lydie. No benefit to him with such a son-in-law. His prestige would take a blow with such a turning of events. And he hardened his heart, and the grooms were let go, and Mr. Sanders sold most of the horses and he turned his eyes on his last remaining progeny who had escaped his notice all these years and wondered what to make of her.


	4. Chapter 4

_The groves, the plains  
_ _The nymphs, the swains,  
_ _The silver stream, the cooling shade.  
_ _All, all declare,  
_ _How false you are,  
_ _How many hearts you have betray'd._

 __ _Ungrateful go,  
_ _Too well I know,  
_ _Your fatal, false, deluding art;  
_ _To every she,  
_ _As well as me,  
_ _You make an offering of your heart._

—Harry Carey

Chapter 4

She dressed again in black as a means of defiance; besides which all her half-mourning clothes had been either dyed black for Uncle Philips or thrown out. She thought of such a waste, but to her Papa, one of the richest gentleman in southern Kent, it was a trifle. The Longbourn estate cleared ten thousand pounds a year, what was the cost of a dress or two to his remaining daughter? And the daughter who would become its new mistress, for he was determined to marry Lisette to his heir, the Reverend Mr. William Collins, son of his cousin Cecilia Collins, descended from their communal grandfather, Walter Bennet, Esq.

He was to have his way in all things. When the Reverend White had died weeks after Jeannette's wedding Mr. Bennet had contacted the Earl of Pett and made a deal with him, the Earl gave the living at St. Albans to his cousin, Mr. Collins and Mr. Bennet gave the Earl a great deal of money. Mr. Collins had initially not been thrilled with the idea of being a parson and having to go through the bother of being ordained that Easter but Mr. Bennet had hired a curate to perform the functions at St. Albans so the Reverend Mr. Collins had little to worry about: he had the income from the living, the parsonage to live in—did not have to bother with making sermons—and Mr. Bennet had his heir near to keep an eye on him and his last remaining daughter under his roof.

Mrs. Bennet was allowed to partake breakfast in her room but her father was in the breakfast parlor when Lisette entered. He did not remark on her gown but then he had not seen her out of her blacks the previous day. He did not acknowledge her in any way as she sat down to eat and she hoped it would continue that way and she could at least enjoy a short walk before being back and being available for morning callers, which included her cousin.

She had finished her meal and made it almost to the safety of the door when her father's voice assaulted her.

"Babette, I shall see you later this morning." It was grating to hear him call her by the pet name her grand-mère used, one her mother had used fondly when she was little but more often used to silence arguments with Lisette these past two years.

"Yes, Papa," she answered and walked from the room. He was to come to ensure her compliance as they began to discuss wedding plans with Cousin Collins. Her stomach cramped up over the one piece of buttered toast she had managed to swallow. Perhaps she might be able to waste away before autumn and her wedding came. She thought of her late night escapade; it had been such fun when she was younger to escape the confines of the house, before it had become a prison, but her brief respite had only brought to bear how much a prison her home had truly become and how little control she had over her own life even if she was not yet under lock and key.

She collected a hat and gloves and set off for her planned walk, mentally shortening it to ensure she would be back and by her mother's side and also in a position to not sit too near her dear cousin Collins when he came to call.

Her steps took her in a different direction than she planned and she surprised herself to find her fist knocking at the Longbourn Dowager house. Mr. Bellamy answered, though it was not opened as quickly as most doors in the neighborhood were answered.

"Mistress Lisette, how pleasant! Such a long time!" he smiled, then schooled his face. "Come in," and he opened the door to its maximum to allow her passage.

"Thank you Bellamy. Is grandfather awake?" she asked as she removed her gloves.

"Yes mistress, in his study as is usual," and held his arm out, palm up as he indicated the direction.

She held her gloves out to him and he took them and smiled and then bowed. Lisette made her way down the hallway to the study, knocked, received no answer but entered nonetheless.

A weathered old man sat before a fire with a book in his hand. It was difficult to tell if he was reading or napping.

"My dearest grandfather, how do you fare?" She called over to him in a raised voice so he would know her.

"I am well my dearest Lisette; I woke up alive today," and he looked up.

"May you do so for a thousand and one more days," she replied.

"Let me see, that would bring me to about eighty-four," he said and smiled, "if I had another thousand days." His smile widened and crinkled up around the edges of his eyes.

"You are not old! I do not know why you insist on arguing with everyone about that," she said as she settled onto a settee near him.

"Oh, but I am! How many others do you know who have made it to their eightieth birthday?" his eyes danced.

"How about Reverend White?" She argued.

"He died when he was seventy-seven dear," he said and then his eyes lost a little of their sparkle. "How are things at the Big House?"

"Why…" and then she left off and simply looked at him. "I will not ask again, grandfather. I promised I would not." He had chosen to lead a retiring life away from the 'Big House' as he referred to Longbourn House and away from society and people—even his own family. His wife had died six years ago and he had decided to move from his house and let his son and heir claim it as his own and retired to the Dowager House and refuse all visitors. Lisette was, however, one of the few permitted entry.

"Good." He said simply. "Shall I have Mrs. Bellamy bring in some tea?"

"No, I dare not stay for tea. I am due to receive callers. My affianced is to come discuss wedding plans this morning, grandfather," and she pressed her lips together.

"You sound disheartened; Jeannette was so much more excited about her wedding than you seem to be about yours, my dear," said Mr. James Bennet, formerly of Longbourn.

"Perhaps because this is not the wedding I want, grandfather," she said through her tight lips. "Nor is it the groom I want," with even fainter words.

"I am sure my son has chosen an estimable young man for you, my dear," and he made a gesture with his hand.

"It is his heir, you know, because none of us were sons," she continued. She looked pointedly at him then though her fingers clenched at her skirts unseen.

"Cissy's son, yes. She was a plain sort of woman, your friend Charlotte reminds me of her. Cissy had some time finding a gentleman to marry despite the nice dowry her father gave her." He looked at her. "You could marry anyone, my dear, and not need a dowry, or simply sing for yours. Like Scheherazade and the Tales of a Thousand and One Nights. But rather than tell a story every night, you could sing with that voice of yours, Lisette," he said his eyes smiling as much as his lips did and his whole face wrinkling.

"Yes dear, but did she not have to tell a story every night so as to avoid being put to death?" she asked.


	5. Chapter 5

_Cruel Creature! Can you leave me,  
_ _Can you then ungrateful prove?  
_ _Did you court me to deceive me,  
_ _And to slight my constant love._

 _False ungrateful thus to woo me,  
_ _Thus to make my heart a prize,  
_ _First to ruin and undo me,  
_ _Then to scorn and tyrannize._

 _Shall I send to Heav'n my pray'r,  
_ _Shall I all my wrongs relate,  
_ _Shall I curse the dear betrayer?  
_ _No alas! It is too late._

 _Cupid! pity my condition,  
_ _Pierce this unrelenting swain!  
_ _Hear a tender Maid's petition,  
_ _And restore my love again._

Chapter 5

Lisette returned with sufficient time to achieve a nice seat next to her Mamma on the settee and given the copious skirts of her mother's dress there would not be room for Reverend Collins to insist on sitting next to her. The door from the hallway was opened by a footman and her father came in to look at them.

"Lisette, allow me to sit with your mother, go and find another seat," he said standing over her, his hand on the same chair Mr. Collins had occupied the day before. She looked at him with anger then; normally she held back any displays of emotion as it often cost her something dear in the effort.

"What difference does it make where you sit, Papa?" and she stressed his name as she stared at him.

"I wish to sit with my wife that should be all that matters at this time," and his chin was tucked down as he looked at her.

She pressed her lips together and thought about refusing but did not think he was in the mood to brook any defiance from her and would not simply pull her up bodily from the spot next to Mrs. Bennet.

"Yes, Papa," and she emphasized his name again as she bowed low to him, pulling the skirts out wide.

He looked down at her, at her neckline where a small gold cross dangled.

"Call your maid to bring you a shawl to cover yourself up. You bare yourself," and he gestured at the skin showing above her neckline. It was a modest gown and tightly laced though a small expanse of her chest was to be seen but she only nodded to his shoes and went to pull the bell chord.

The tea things were brought in but there was no tea served while they waited for their guest. Her parents spoke of trivial things and she did not heed their chatter, Lisette focused on breathing and being simply a young woman sitting in a chair and attempted to not panic over her fate.

The door was opened and her cousin arrived, sidling into the room to then stand and flex himself up onto his toe tips. He bowed and waved a hand out in front of him in a gallant gesture.

"Madam, Master, my dearest plumcake," he said to each of them in turn and then came to sit next to Lisette.

"Collins," nodded her father before sitting down. She and her mother curtsied and sat after Mr. Bennet waved them to their seats.

"I am a little behind my time, my pony was a little slow in coming for all the whipping I applied," he smiled to let them know he suffered much with such a beast.

Mr. Bennet sat up a little; he was a horseman after all. "Whipping, Mr. Collins, is not necessarily the most efficacious way to get your animal to move," he said with narrowed eyes.

The Reverend Mr. Collins was surprised by his master's words and swallowed but then pasted on a smile. "I thank you, Sir, I shall see if there are other means at my disposal to get the animal to move," and he blinked a few times, moved his head around as though to loosen his neck, then nodded deeply.

Mrs. Bennet had begun to pour tea and helped him out of his difficulties by offering him a cup which he thankfully took.

"Now, I was thinking St. George's or St. James, though I really thought that St. George's is the best possible venue, do you not agree Ma'am?" asked Mr. Collins turning his smile to the mistress of the house.

"Pardon?" said Mrs. Bennet shaking her head slightly at the sudden change of topic.

"The church, for the wedding…in London?" and his half deferential, half arrogant smile that usually graced his face was there in pride of place.

"What does Babette wish?" Mrs. Bennet turned to look at Lisette.

Lisette felt as though the pet name use was a code with her mother now 'please do not make trouble so I can see that grandbaby, that new granddaughter, please Lisette, just say yes to everything,' for Jeannette had her first child and Mrs. Bennet had yet to see her.

"Babette!" And he turned that smile to Lisette though he oiled it up a little and she quailed, "how charming, is that your pet name? Babette!" He appraised her from hair to knees in a lazy fashion. "Babette…Babette, my it does suit you." He tasted the name on his tongue and then he pursed his lips together and it was as if he were kissing her even though he was in the chair next to her and she felt her skin crawl as though ants, hundreds of them had suddenly swarmed her sleeves and her stockings. "I will be calling you that when I am pleased with you," he said in a sort of moment of intimacy and smiled again. He then looked over at his master and the lady of the house.

"St. George's?" he asked.

"That is acceptable," said Mr. Bennet. "It was what I wished for Jeannette though it did not turn out," he said and then turned to glare at his wife as though coming home to be wed from Longbourn had been Mrs. Bennet's idea and not Jeannette's.

"And her frock to match mine, of course. We can have the tailor come down from London in the next week or two, to begin sewing," he then looked at Lisette again and noticed she was in her blacks again and frowned. "Lisette," and he drew his eyebrows together as if he were attempting to have her understand he was not pleased with her just then, "do you have a favorite color that I might have my coat and breeches made it and have your dress be made to match?"

"She looks good in blue with her dark hair, like Jeannette does," began Mrs. Bennet.

"Not blue, Jeannette wore it," barked Mr. Bennet suddenly, anger on his face. Jeannette's wedding was remembered, a memory hung in the room between them and its aftermath with Lydie running away.

"Ah! No blue then," said the odious man that would be her husband.

"You will not be dressed in your collar, Cousin Collins?" ventured Lisette.

"Oh! No! I am going to leave off my collar after I marry my sweetest plum, I shall be coming to live here, did you not know?" The smile dropped the deferential entirely and was arrogant and possessive as he looked at her. "I already have a curate doing my job at St. Albans so I shall come be a gentleman."

"No," she answered simply. Not even in marriage was she to escape the confines of the house and would be subject to her odious husband and still under her father's thumb. She looked at her mother with pity then and wondered what small sacrifices Mrs. Bennet had made over the years that had gone unnoticed by the three daughters for surely this father did not suddenly appear all because Lydie had run away.

Hillard opened the door, "Miss Lucas, Miss Maria Lucas, Mr. Lucas, Mr. John Lucas," he announced as he stood stiffly while the guests walked into the room. Lisette was on her feet in a moment, hiding her smile with a deep curtsey to her friends.

"How do you do?" Called out Mr. Lucas as he came into the room but he stopped short as he spied Mr. Bennet and the Reverend Collins. The other three Lucas family members did not appear surprised by the company and came to stand next to their eldest brother and bowed or curtsied as was appropriate.

Mrs. Bennet was gracious and called out to them to take seats wherever they could find them. "It is my morning for receiving callers, you know," she said turning to look at her husband who did not control his surprise and then his anger on his face well as she rang for more tea.

"Mamma sends her love," said Charlotte Lucas as she sat on the other side of Lisette. "She wished to come as well but I am afraid that Susan and Anthony both appear to be unwell today. I hope you are in health?"

"I am, I thank you," said Mrs. Bennet. Everyone's health was inquired of then and then the long spate of rain was discussed and accused of causing the colds that plagued the Lucas nursery. A fresh pot arrived and tea was served all around while Mr. Lucas discussed a book he was reading. He was, as most everyone knew, the sort to expound on a subject at length unless reined in. None of his siblings did so.

Mr. Bennet sat tight-lipped and Reverend Collins looked upset, like a spoiled child whose toy has been taken away.

"Mr. Lucas it sounds a delightful book," ventured Lisette. "Do you know who might like it, Mr. Bennet!"

Her father looked across at her as though she were attempting a joke but one in poor taste for company, but he held himself in check. "I hate to disagree with a guest or my dearest daughter, but it is not quite the sort of work I read," he said.

"Oh!" and Lisette smiled sweetly. She would pay for this insolence, she was sure, "I meant Mr. Bennet, my grandfather, not Mr. Thomas Bennet, my father."

"My, I have not spoken to your esteemed grandfather in years, Miss Lisette, since he chose to 'withdraw from society' was it not?" said Mr. Lucas. "Do you truly believe he would enjoy this work?" It was a sincere question and Mr. Lucas was not the type to catch the undercurrents in the room for which Lisette was thankful.

Her father hated being reminded that he was, technically, not the master of Longbourn. He was still the heir presumptive. He was, Mr. Thomas Bennet, the son and heir and not yet Mr. Bennet, master. She would be punished for making such a point and she could feel her father's eyes on her.

"I believe we have stayed our fifteen minutes," said John Lucas as he looked at Mr. Bennet and Lisette glowering at each other and Mr. Collins wondering how to turn the talk back to his wedding. He had never been called to have competition at Longbourn but always been given free rein to speak his mind about whatever he wished.

"Do you wish to visit Mr. Bennet and tell him about your book?" asked Lisette who had risen as the others stood.

"Why, yes, that would be delightful! I had no other plans but to return to make some notes upon it this morning, Miss Lisette," and he smiled at her with a slight sideways turn of his head. "May I say you are quite pretty, Miss Lisette." William Lucas had an equally sideways smile as he gazed at Lisette in her black dress with her dark hair. Charlotte came to take his arm and lead him to the door.

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas, you are charming," and she curtsied. She thought she heard a growling noise beside her and saw Mr. Collins looking with a certain loathing for Mr. Lucas under his narrowed eyes.

"Would you care to come visit grandfather, Mr. Collins?" she asked. He turned his head a small bit as though taken aback.

"I believe I will visit my Cousin James," he said through clenched teeth.

"Papa?" It was not so much asking for his to accompany them as it was asking for his permission to leave. He was so angry he could not speak but he cared for his reputation in the neighborhood and waved them away. He would save his punishment of her for when she returned.

Hillard was ready at the door with gloves and hats. They walked out, past the little sad pony but she dared not to stop to speak to him. Outside the double gates stood the Lucas carriage, apparently Mr. Lucas had enough clout to be able to merit the carriage from his mother and father. She spied a soft orange body hiding behind its wheels but did not remark on it and kept walking.

"Babette?" and the Reverend Mr. Collins offered her his arm which she reluctantly took. She dared not look at John, but Mr. Lucas was on her other side and chatted away happily as they walked. Charlotte and Maria walked behind them on John's arms. Lisette could not make out what they spoke of as the group walked to see Mr. Bennet.

Once again she knocked on the Dowager house and Bellamy was surprised at the company of them. She applied for the six of them to see Mr. Bennet. This time he asked for them to wait in the hall.

Mr. Bennet did receive them with smiles from his place by the chair. Lisette wondered if he had not been napping, there was a fat gray cat on his lap which had not been there when she left.

"My dear! Twice in one day, such a devoted child!" He smiled, his eyes twinkling at her. The cat raised its head, eyed them all then lay back down.

"Mr. Bennet, may I present the Lucas family, all of whom you should know already," but she went through their names to remind him again, "and this is Reverend Collins, your cousin," and she motioned to the young man next to her.

Mr. Collins was taller than average in height, an inch or two above John with dark hair, a round head and jowly cheeks. His chest was always pronounced though his waist was neither slim nor running to fat. Lisette suspected he wore a corset. His eyes, as she knew from them often peering up at her over her hand, were blue.

"Ah, young man, come and shake my hand and say hello," said her grandfather and he raised a withered and spotted old hand from his seat.

Mr. Collins came over to bow in front of the old man. The cat startled everyone by jumping up to hiss at him and then leaping up to disappear into some nook of the room. Reverend Collins took a few steps back before coming up once again to stand before his cousin and then tentatively extended his arm.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir," said Mr. Collins. "It is an honor to be marrying your granddaughter," and the smile was out then that half and half smile.

"Is she to marry that man?" asked Mr. Lucas, surprised, his voice carrying.

"Yes," whispered Maria to him and patted his arm. Mr. Lucas frowned.

Mr. Bennet waved them all to sit. Mr. Lucas was afforded his chance to expound about his book and Mr. Bennet listened with interest asking a great number of questions. Mr. Collins shifted uneasily in his seat; he appeared to not know how to steer the conversation to his advantage—as though it was not the sort of conversation he had ever encountered: a philosophical one between two sincerely interested people rather than all insincere flattery as was his specialty.

"Miss Bennet," Mr. Collins addressed her with a cool gaze; she wondered then at the mode of address as he had never called her 'Miss Bennet' it was always 'plumcake' or 'sweetest,' but his gaze was on her. "I shall return tomorrow for further discussions about our wedding plans."

He looked over at Charlotte and Maria and then particularly at John who all sat and were watching William Lucas and Grandfather Bennet talk. The three Lucases turned back to look at Mr. Collins.

"Were you speaking of your wedding this morning?" asked Charlotte in her even voice. "Have you begun to make plans?"

"We have," and the pride of place smile was there and he gazed from Miss Lucas back to Lisette and he locked eyes with her, "we have so many details to arrange and have just begun," and then he looked back at Charlotte. "I am sure you must know that weddings are all about the details?"

"Yes, we did help out with Jeannette's, though none of us has married. We keep waiting for William to choose a bride, but he has yet to find one who favors books," and she laughed then and looked at her brother, the oldest son and next in age to Charlotte who was the oldest child.

"How unfortunate for you," sneered Mr. Collins.

"Do not feel sorry for us," said John Lucas, "we are a loving family; it would be hard to part with any one of us should they choose to up and marry. Do you have brothers or sisters Mr. Collins?"

"No, I do not. I had the devoted care of my parents, the focus of their time and loving attention," and he simpered at his audience with that conceit that always hung just below the surface.

"I should not know what to do without my brothers and sisters," said Maria who was the middle child.

"How odd," said Mr. Collins who looked like he had walked into a stable and all its associated smells and was not in a sitting room.

"I appreciate you attending my grandfather but I fear we may overtax him with our stay," hinted Lisette.

Mr. Lucas did not wish to leave and her grandfather looked as if he had enjoyed the visit, for which she was glad, but they all rose.

"My dear," said her grandfather, "indulge your grandfather and sing me a song before you go," called out Mr. Bennet.

"I worry you are tired, grandfather," she said.

"Your songs are never tiring," he answered. So they sat again while Lisette stood and sang to her grandfather.

 _The heavy hours are almost pass'd  
_ _That part my love and me:  
_ _My longing eyes may hope at last  
_ _Their only wish to see._

 _But how, my Delia, will you meet,  
_ _The man you've lost so long?  
_ _Will love in all your pulses beat,  
_ _And tremble on your tongue?_

 _Will you in every look declare  
_ _Your heart is still the same,  
_ _And heal each idly anxious care,  
_ _Our fears in absence frame._

 _Thus, Delia, thus I paint the scene,  
_ _When shortly we shall meet;  
_ _And try what yet remains between  
_ _Of loitering time to cheat._

 _But if the dream that soothes my mind  
_ _Shall false and groundless prove;  
_ _If I am doom'd at length to find  
_ _You have forgotten love;_

 _All I of Venus ask, is this:  
_ _No more to let us join:  
_ _But grant me here the flattering bliss  
_ _To die, and think you mine_

All eyes were on her as she sang his favorite song; the gray cat came back to perch on his lap in contentment. Mr. Collins was the one creature who seemed to not know what to make of her as though he had not realized his pretty little bird had such a beautiful voice. They left her grandfather sleeping in his chair with his fat gray friend sleeping on his chest.

They parted with mutual affection at the Lucas carriage. Reverend Collins secured her hand to escort her back within the confines of the walls of Longbourn.

"I am overdue for many appointments, my dear, but what an interesting morning it has been. I know that my Cousin James prefers to live in solitude and refuses callers. How kind of you to make him known to me," and the smile was there as he calculated using the introduction to his advantage.

"It is only right that he know you, Cousin Collins," replied Lisette. "I shall let you be on your way that you may make those appointments." She would have turned into the house, but he captured her hand in his. She assumed there would be another kiss planted on that poor overtaxed hand but he stepped in close suddenly yanking her arm down straight, almost painfully, and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"We are, after all, affianced my dear. I have a right to kiss you," he looked at her with a glint in his eye, daring her to question him. She froze; her arm stiff and still captured by him. Her eyes closed under his gaze and she tilted her cheek up as an offering. He kissed it again. "Goodbye, Babette," he said and released her arm.

She opened her eyes and watched him unhitch the pony and climb into the phaeton and set off with his reins held stiffly in front of him as though the poor pony might run off at any moment.


	6. Chapter 6

_'Twas when the seas were roaring,  
_ _With hollow blasts of wind;  
_ _A damsel lay deploring,  
_ _All on a rock reclin'd:  
_ _Wide o'er the foaming billow,  
_ _She cast a wistful look;  
_ _Her head was crown'd with willows,  
_ _That trembled o'er the brook._

 _Twelve months are gone and over,  
_ _And nine long tedious days,  
_ _Why didst though, vent'rous lover,  
_ _Why didst thou trust the seas?  
_ _Cease, cease thou cruel ocean,  
_ _And let my lover rest.  
_ _Ah! What's thy troubled motion,  
_ _To that within my breast?_

 _All melancholy lying,  
_ _Thus wail'd she for her dear,  
_ _Repaid each blast with fighting,  
_ _Each billow with a tear,  
_ _When o'er the wide waves s'coping,  
_ _His floating corpse she spy'd,  
_ _Then like a lily drooping,  
_ _She bow'd her head and dy'd._

 _—John Gay_

Chapter 6

No amount of scrubbing could remove the sense of dirt on her cheeks, even on her body, but she would not be permitted to bathe midday, so Lisette soaped and scrubbed her cheeks a half dozen times before drying them and then staring at herself in the looking glass. Her dark, almost black eyes stared back at her. She had often thought them expressionless and in the last two years she hoped that was an advantage, that her father could not truly read what went on in her mind whenever they clashed over a topic—and it seemed that anytime they spoke they disagreed. Her hair was brown; she had often thought it was a dull mousy brown, and it had been lighter when she was a child, and especially compared to Jeannette's dark, almost raven tresses—but as she looked and ran fingers through the curls that hung at her shoulders and down her back, she supposed it could be reckoned dark brown. She looked French, like her mother, and Tante Amandine, and her grand-mère.

It was a sad and disheartened face that was looking back at her, perhaps a beautiful one—one young admirer had once said she looked like a doe-eyed Madonna—but it was a melancholy Madonna that stared back at her. Lisette pressed her lips together. She would not give up in finding some way out of this predicament.

She looked around at her bedroom; she had wanted for nothing growing up. It was a large chamber with an elegant bed; the servants fluffed the mattresses every day, most likely they changed the sheets every day as well: she could not, in reality, tell the difference. The bed was hung with beautiful soft green velvet curtains and once, in happier times, she and Jeannette and Lydie had gathered there, hidden on the bed pulling the curtains to hide and to talk and to gossip late into the night, giggling and whispering and being unconcerned about life.

The dressing table had all the accoutrements of an elegantly-bred lady, even some forbidden items like face powder which her Mamma had brought to her though she never used it. Lisette had not been so concerned with the getting of a husband or of attracting a gentleman to be as concerned with her appearance as her two sisters were though she did like her fine dresses. She loved the rustle of silk as she walked and the full, fat skirts that would bloom out as she twirled quickly. She loved flowered materials and blues and greens and pinks and to feel like a happy little girl in a pretty new dress and not a captured bird in a gilded cage.

Her room was large enough that she had a fat chair by the window and a tallboy for small articles of clothing and her plain trunk with its secret clothing and the door that led to her dressing room which held the multitude of dresses she currently owned. But she faltered in thinking of that, she owned none of them, her father owned them; he could take them away with one word. Her favorite flowered dress with the peonies had been ordered dyed black for Tante Amandine's mourning. He had known how much she loved it and had specified it be one of those dyed.

Lisette went to sit in the chair with its view of the east gardens, those lovely formal gardens. For years she had loved her room and this view because being up high had felt magical, it had been mesmerizing to sit and look at the geometric layout of the gardens and to trace the paths with her eyes. Her eyes now sought those same paths as a means of soothing her tortured mind and she took even, measured breaths as she moved her gaze along through the greenery of the garden.

A knock was on her door, and then the knob turned and her father entered without waiting for permission. He hesitated only for an instance before finding her on her chair and then strode over to tower over her. She stayed where she was, sitting up straight and proper in her chair and only inclining her head to look up at him but without saying a word in greeting.

He slapped her sharply across her left cheek.

The blow had made her head turn away and her shock and surprise was so great that she let her chin rest on her shoulder for a few heartbeats, a few gasping breaths, as her mind worked at this new level to their relationship. He had not ever been violent with her before; he had clasped her arm and dragged her from rooms, forced her to sit or to stand, but he had never hit her before. Lisette turned her head back to look at him.

"I have displeased you," she said.

"All of my children are disappointments." He turned to look out the window. "My wife is a disappointment to have not given me sons. Women are pathetic creatures suitable only for bedding or for breeding." He turned back to look at her. "You will call your maid."

"My maid?" she questioned. "Why do I need to call my maid, Papa?"

"Call your maid because I want you to surrender all of your shoes." And he turned back to look out the window.

"My shoes!" He did not turn at her surprise but continued to enjoy her view; she thought that unfair that he could take that too. "Why do I need to give you my shoes, Papa?"

"I will not have you wandering away from me. I can see your defiance; I can sense that it lies beneath your skin even though you bow and simper at me like all other women." His voice was soft and he spoke to the window panes before him, their diamond pattern not obstructing his view in any way, apparently. "Ring for your maid."

Lisette stood and went to the bell pull near her bed and then stood in silence while she waited for a maid to appear. She had no particular maid assigned to her; she assumed that was another design of her father's, so she had no one particular person with which to confide—or no one with whom she could rely on. Lydie's maid had helped her to flee, packing a small satchel to take with her and been dismissed without pay the next day. Mr. Bennet had ensured the maid was not hired by any other family in Kent and whispered words were she had set off on foot for London seeking employment there. No one was sure what had become of Patrice.

Constance appeared after knocking and receiving permission from Mr. Bennet to enter. She did not seem surprised by his presence in Lisette's chambers.

"Please gather up all of Miss Lisette's shoes and bring them to me. All of them." He used his masterly voice and the young woman, who had been looking up with something akin to a question, looked sharply to the floor and curtsied and then went into the dressing room. Small noises came then from that room while she completed her master's task. He had turned again to look out the window and Lisette moved at least to stand at the end of the bed and watch him while she listened to the noises from the dressing room.

Her mind was on her trunk and its forbidden treasures inside but she dared not look at it so she continued to watch her father; he had taught her how to play this game of intrigue, after all. Before Lydie had run away and ruined everything there had many games in the Bennet house. Cards and dice and gambling had been part of the entertainment. Lisette had learned how to play games of chance, how to school her face while she laid out her hands and bet against her opponents.

While her sisters had been far more interested in dancing and in peering at the young men that her father gathered around them, both parent and daughters delighting in the society to be had when one was rich and renowned in the county, Lisette had been more interested in learning the games of chance. That meant learning how to flirt as there were often more young men, and older men, at the card tables than women—though she had no real interest in the men—only the game which she used to her advantage. Uncle Philips' lessons had also given her knowledge of the world, his books had opened up a world beyond the stilted one her governesses had given her; he had taught her to observe people critically and with a certain wit.

All of this she employed as her expressionless face gazed with indifference at her father's back while they both waited for the maid to finish gathering her shoes and return to the bedroom.

"Sir," said Constance coming in with a basket she had procured from somewhere.

"Lay them out," he turned and gestured at his feet.

The petite maid did so, kneeling before her master in her flowery dress, tightly laced with her breasts spilling over the top and Lisette watched as her father gazed down then at the maid with the same sort of look that Cousin Collins gave her whenever they were together. She had never considered her father in such a light, but she suddenly wondered if he bedded the maids in their house and could not help shuddering at the idea.

Lisette looked over at her shoes on the floor and was shocked how many pairs she owned as the rows appeared and kept growing at her father's feet. Practically every new ballgown had a matching pair of dance slippers, to be sure, but she had quite a number of walking boots and other day shoes.

When Constance was done she stood and curtsied again to Mr. Bennet who then marched as though he were a soldier around the rectangle of shoes made by the rows laid out on the floor.

"Burn the dance slippers," he gestured in a vague way to the pastel creations on the floor. "Put the rest in that basket and put them in my study." He turned then to look at Lisette. "Remove your shoes," he barked. Perhaps he had wanted to remain calm, but her serenity and still manner irritated him.

"Yes, Papa," and she removed her favorite pair of boots and added them to the end of a row. "Shall I have nothing to wear, Papa?" she asked looking up at him as she stood. He looked at her, hoping for more emotion but they stood for a full minute without speaking.

He looked down at an old pair of slippers, once white but faded to cream, suitable only for the house. He pointed to them. "You may keep those," and his eyes swept up to her with her cold face and then it swept over the room, at the bed and the dressing table, the tallboy and the trunk.

"Constance, search the dresser," he ordered and then chose to sit in the chair while the maid did his bidding. She found nothing but underpinings in the tallboy and said as much to her master.

"What is in the trunk, Lisette?" he asked, standing as he came to look at her dressing table, picking up and replacing her brush and comb and then stopping to look at himself in the mirror and patting his wig as he did so.

"There are some books and some childhood mementos, Papa," she answered as her heart rose up, beating, creeping in her chest until she could feel it pulsing at the base of her throat. But she knew how to play this game, "I have it locked, but can open it for you," she offered.

He walked from the dressing table to look at the trunk. A cloth beneath the candelabra was stained with wax drippings. The books on the one corner were haphazardly stacked. He reached out to touch the chest and then ran a finger on the top and removed a layer of dust.

"No need, but if it is childhood mementos you had best put those behind you, in the lumber room or throw them away, you will be a married woman and not need them. I shall send a footman for the trunk to cart it away for you," and he turned, stopping to look at Constance's backside while she was bent over stuffing all of the pairs of shoes in the basket. "A maid will come sleep in your room at night, in the dressing room," he said, his face composed again and he left.

"Yes, Papa," she answered as she watched him go. Constance finished her task and turned to leave without a curtsey to Lisette.

Lisette sank to the floor where she had stood, drained. Her heart sank back to its rightful place in her chest. She clasped her hands together and took in a deep breath to steady her nerves.

She looked over at her trunk and spared herself one minute of rest before she would need to relieve it of its precious contents. She had been clever to sprinkle it with face powder to make it look like dust.


	7. Chapter 7

_Though time has not wreathed  
_ _My temples with snow.  
_ _Though age hath not breathed  
_ _A spell o'er my brow.  
_ _Yet care's withered fingers  
_ _Press on me with pain;  
_ _The fleeting pulse lingers,  
_ _And lingers in vain._

 _The eyes which behold thee,  
_ _Their brightness is flown;  
_ _The arms which enfold thee,  
_ _Enfeebled are grown.  
_ _And friendship hath left me,  
_ _By fortune estranged;  
_ _All, all is bereft me,  
_ _For thou, too, art changed!_

 _Yes, dark ills have clouded  
_ _The dawning in tears;  
_ _Adversity shrouded  
_ _By ripening years,  
_ _Life's path wild and dreary,  
_ _Draws nigh to its close;  
_ _Heart-broken and weary  
_ _I sigh for repose._

— _Southet_

Chapter 7

Dinner was the usual cold, if polite, event it always was and then at one point her father turned to her with cool eyes and asked, "how did the Lucases know to come to visit this morning, Lisette?" He said it sweetly almost with that same simpering smile that she saw on her fiancé's face.

"Because Papa, it was Mamma's at-home morning and they decided to come to call on us," she answered. And smiled.

"You did not send them a letter asking them to come?" He pressed and raised an eyebrow.

"No, Papa, you know you need to frank all of my letters so you would know if I had sent them a note," she answered.

"You do not have any of the maids sending letters or notes to Miss Lucas, or Mr. Lucas?" His voice changed and she saw then what he was afraid of and she realized the Lucases' mistake in bringing their brother with them, the poor man. He was intelligent and he loved his books and his reading but he had not the slightest clue about social events and things that were going on around him. They had unwittingly made him the focus of her father's anger and attention when really it had been John Lucas who had orchestrated it. Really it had been Lisette who had done it in her desperation to talk to one person who had sympathy for her and her plight, to go and to speak to John in the middle of the night. John had enlisted Charlotte and Maria to come help elevate some of her sorrows that morning. What they had done was create a focus point for her father's wrath.

She then sent a note to Charlotte Lucas to say she was so busy with wedding plans and that Lisette would need to cancel attending a tea with her and Maria at a neighbor's house. The event was fictitious but as her father would want to read the letter she had to have some way of hinting that they should keep away.

That half-finished tune would badger her during the next few days at lonely moments in her room or as she sat and stitched in quiet in the afternoon parlor with Mrs. Bennet, glad for company and yet no conversation after the cacophony of Cousin Collins' voice in the mornings. The tune poked around in her brain and she worked at it but could never bring it to fruition.

It became a game of cat and mouse over the next week. She removed her Sir Llewellyn Jones clothes from the trunk hiding them beneath her pillow and between the mattresses for the evening before the groom had taken the trunk away. She knew the boots would be difficult to hide. She finally carefully laid them on the velvet canopy that hung over the bed and hoped no one looked there. She hid the clothes in her dressing room or in the tallboy, moving them two or three times every day.

Cousin Collins came every morning to discuss wedding plans with Lisette and her mother. She paid little attention to the details but let the Reverend Mr. Collins dictate his heart's desire as to every little point about the wedding. Her mother began to brighten as they tackled more of the aspects of guests and food, becoming her more talkative self.

Le Poisson would sometimes come sit on her lap, purring loudly—almost drowning out her cousin—and she would stroke him and find some comfort in the moment in running her hands through his fur. The cat did not care for Mr. Collins and let the vicar know it but braved the drawing room and the oily company of Cousin Collins to protect her. Her cousin always insisted she walk him to the door and planted a wet kiss on her cheek which she dutifully and freely offered him. It was better than his deciding to take her in his arms and attempting to plant one on her lips.

She wished to know the game she was playing and on the second day had inquired at breakfast of Mr. Bennet if she might have a pair of boots with which to walk. But he replied "no" without looking up from his newssheet and with no other word. Not that she was to take a maid or a footman on said walk or not to walk out at all. She sipped her tea and considered whether she should ask to see grandfather but decided against it. That was showing her hand. Grandfather might be considered an ally though he was on no one's side but his own, waiting for death to take him so he could see Grandmother again.

Every evening she waited impatiently to see which maid would be sent to undress her. Constance was clearly under her father's thumb—she had looked at the blond-haired, blue-eyed young woman that first evening after she took her shoes away and looked at her with a critical eye. One does not wish to think of one's parents—or parent—in such terms but Lisette could not but wonder if she was not her father's lover.

Dulcie Campbell had been petite, blond and blue-eyed, so went the rumors, and engaged to Mr. Thomas Bennet before she had run off with a raven-haired Welshman to Gretna Green. Lisette was not sure, however, why her father had then married a raven-haired, dark-eyed French beauty. Mademoiselle Marguerite Briard was as different from Dulcie Campbell, in looks anyways, as was possible. She had been at the time, the most beautiful woman in Southern Kent and Mr. Bennet had to have her.

Constance had to look a lot like Dulcie, thought Lisette. For two nights the Dulcie look-alike came to undress her, but on the third night, Sally came.

Sally was another English beauty and Lisette spared a thought for the fact that all of the footman and maids—and grooms when they had them and it was not just her father's poor valet dealing with his horse as well as his clothes—were fine of feature and form. Sally had recently lost her grandmother and her mother in a short space of time. Servants in the Bennet household were not allowed to wear black or to claim mourning but Lisette had supported her as best she could. She hoped to ask a favor of Sally that night, for Sally to let her visit her grandmother.

Madame Briard had always lived with Uncle Philips and Tante Amandine. After their passing during the past year, Mrs. Bennet had pleaded with her husband to allow her mother to be able to live at Longbourn. He had initially refused. Mr. Bennet had never got along well with Madame Briard and he had strong anti-Catholic views but eventually he relented. Lisette had not been privy to the negotiations but feared her mother had paid dearly for grand-mère to come live with them.

Grand-mère was never acknowledged as a household member, never sat down to dinner with them and for the most part was kept to the second floor of the house never to be seen by anyone: visitor, family or servant.

Lisette prepared for bed and Sally finished brushing her hair and then prepared to retire to sleep in the dressing room.

"Sally, I wish to run up to speak to my grandmother," she looked at the maid in the mirror.

"Your father," began Sally and swallowed.

"I know," said Lisette interrupting her. "I have not seen grand-mère in weeks." She turned in her chair to look the maid fully in the face, "and I want to go before he forbids me outright. Please let me go." She looked at Sally wanting to reach out and touch her or hold her arms up in front of her to beg. "Please let me go and do not say anything."

"Did you know, Miss Lisette, that I had to do the laundry today?" Asked Sally. Lisette shook her head. "It is hard, bone-weary work. I shall be fast asleep in minutes." And she turned and walked straight to the dressing room without another word said.

Lisette slipped out of her one pair of shoes and removed her stockings and crept to the outer door. There should be no one in the hallway but she wished to be sure. She eased the door open and listened to the soft whisperings of an old house that was shuttered and locked for the night. She stole out and crossed past her sisters' empty apartments and then paused at the main staircase.

She could sneak into the other wing past her parent's apartments to the servant's stair or go up the main staircase to the second floor. The servant's staircase that led to her own wing did not go up to where grand-mère's apartments lie and she knew that had been part of Mr. Bennet's design. Lisette glanced down to the ground floor and saw no sign of Hillard or a footman but supposed one or the other would be on duty.

Lisette quietly crept up the main stair sticking to the deepest shadows she could find. On the second floor landing she turned into the south wing towards her grand-mère's rooms and then once obtaining them, entered without knocking.

The room was large and had been originally two smaller ones with the wall between removed. A fire with burning coals was on the east wall and her grand-mère lay in her bed with the curtains pulled closed for warmth on both sides and only the end open to allow the warmth of the fire to reach her. Mrs. Mayhew sat in a chair before the fire with some needlework on her lap but her head nodded forward in sleep. Lisette crept forward to stand a few feet away from her grandmother to spy at her but brightly sparkling dark eyes looked up at her from the depths of her cave.

"Bonsoir," welcomed her grandmother.

"Bonsoir," she answered back, "comment allez-vous?" Lisette's French was flawless; their conversation was always in her grandmother's native language.

"I am always cold my darling, always cold," answered her grandmother as they continued in French, with her nightcap and her shawl obscuring so much of her tiny body. "Come and sit and whisper to me so we do not wake Mrs. Mayhew." Lisette parted the curtains quickly to sit next to her grandmother, drawing her feet beneath her skirts but sitting on top of the bedcovers. "Why have you come to see me, my darling?"

She sat with her back to the fire so she could see her grandmother and could see the concern and love on her maternal grandmother's face though it was lined with weariness and sorrow and a certain sickly tone as well. Madame Briard had not been well since moving houses but refused to seek help, not that Mr. Bennet would allow the apothecary to visit her.

"Grand-mère, I love you and I needed to see you before Papa forbides me to come," she began, uncertain how to say what she wanted and how to ask for what she needed.

"Bebe," it was grand-mère's pet name for her; not used for seven or perhaps ten years now since she had grown taller than her grandmother. It said a lot in the one word: it spoke of love and devotion and understanding. A hand wrestled itself from under the bedclothes and the shawls, a worn and spotted hand, the skin loose and lying in soft folds and Lisette clasped it. "It has been difficult, Bebe, I know."

"I am going away," she whispered and it stung her throat to say it as though by saying it somehow it became real, "I fear I may never see you again."

Genevieve Briard looked at her granddaughter, her expression unchanged on her wrinkled face, nothing moved in her facial features. "This is to be a parting then, my darling?" And her head began to nod as she took in that fact, and her head kept nodding as she considered Lisette leaving and never seeing her again. "There is some young man to run away with, I suppose? Who makes your heart sing?" And her eyebrows lifted up then and a sweet smile came to her thin lips at the idea of young, passionate love.

"No, grand-mère, he does not truly make my heart sing," and she thought of all that John Lucas had done for her, "but he will help me escape from marrying a man who has no music in his soul, who is cruel. The man I plan to run away with is a friend, you see…" and she faltered as her grandmother held up a finger and had brought her head back up to look at her.

"You should only marry for a deep and abiding love, my darling, marry because your heart sings with passion," and her head drooped forward, "I wish Marguerite had heeded my advice…," her head seemed to drop as if she had fallen asleep mid-sentence and Lisette leaned over, craning her neck to see if that was the case, but her grandmother pulled a hand up to her brow for a second before pulling it back beneath the warmth of the covers. "Marie Thérèze."

"Grand-mère?" asked Lisette who still had her head tilted.

"I have many brothers and sisters, my darling. Many," and her grandmother looked up at her. "I have a widowed sister who lives almost across the Channel, in Dieppe, Marie Thérèze Trepanier."

"I have not heard you speak of her, grand-mère," said Lisette who sat up and straightened the skirts around her cold feet. "I know that you had nine brothers and sisters and were the oldest child in the family. That you cared for them which was why you married late and that you and grand-père traveled around France a lot—that you could not be parted from him," she smiled at recalling sweet childhood stories at her grandmother's knee back at Tante Amandine's house.

"Lisette, my little darling, I do not think you should marry a man you do not absolutely adore," said her grandmother. "Your Mamma did and see…"

"But he would take good care of me, grand-mère," argued Lisette.

"Your Mamma thought the same thing and it has turned out to be so ugly between them," she was shaking her head and seemed as though unable to stop.

"But John would not be like that, grand-mère, he is such a good friend," cried Lisette.

"If there was somewhere else you could go…you should go see Marie Thérèze," said her grandmother, who stopped her head shaking and again a sparkle came back to her eyes. "Perhaps, you are just too French for these stupid Englishmen to appreciate and we need to send you to French soil to find a husband."

"Grand-mère I am not thinking of a husband as much as I simply need to escape. Papa has imprisoned me, he has taken away all of my shoes!" She cried.

Her grandmother reached out from underneath her covers and felt down to squeeze Lisette's cold toes. "These stupid Englishmen they do not know how to treat women at all, they lock away their daughters." She paused. "Do you have any money, my little darling?"

And Lisette laughed because it had to have been so long since Lisette had grown taller than her grandmother. "A pound or two Grandmother that is all," she answered.

"That will not get you very far. You will need to have money if you are to cross the Channel, if you are to go see Marie Thérèze. She is my youngest sister but one. But she is a widow and she had no children and she lives the closest, see, it is a good solution!" Her head nodded now as she agreed with herself.

Lisette still was not sure about her grandmother's idea. After three days in her room, three days of not being able to go walking she had thought her only option was to escape to Gretna Green with John Lucas. She was not in a search of a husband and she told her grandmother that.

"All young girls want husbands," said Madame Briard.

It seemed like everyone thought that, her grandmother and her grandfather, most people assumed that a young lady of twenty could only think of the getting of a husband.

"Did I ever tell you of the cassette girls?" Asked her grandmother suddenly.

Lisette looked at her and said "no, who are the cassette girls?"

"I am old," said her grandmother and Lisette immediately said,

"You are not old!" But they both knew it was a lie, that living with the Bennets, living at Longbourn under lock and key had done nothing but drain the life out of Madame Briard and if nothing else that was a warning sign to Lisette about her fate. That she would not be able to last long in the coming months without freedom to walk and to wander. To be under the control of her husband, Mr. Collins, and her father if the wedding really did take place meant Lisette would waste away, be a cut flower that wilted away despite the beautiful vase and being placed in water to keep her fresh for a little while.

"It was fifty years ago at least. I remember," said her grand-mère, "they were looking for wives, there were settlements in New France. Men had gone over and settled there, but they needed wives so they sent over nuns who set up a convent to keep things decent," and her grandmother winked at her, "the Ursuline sisters set up a convent and girls agreed to go, mostly they were servant girls, peasant girls, but they agreed to go and stay with the nuns until they married the men settlers, down in a place called New Orleans—named for the Duc of course! They gave them little trunks called cassettes or 'caskets' in your English where they kept their valuables. I remember I was young then but I recall watching them board their ship on the Seine and seeing it sail away and thinking how much I should like to sail away as well. And yet I was stuck at home then because I had nine brothers and sisters that I had to raise." She laughed then. "Though there were not even nine then, they were still coming!" And she smiled wide and kept laughing. Lisette could not recall the last time she had heard her grandmother laugh. "But I just remember watching that ship sail away and wanting an adventure. So when I met your grandfather, he was a merchant you know, and he was always traveling, I decided I wanted to go with him, I did not want to stay at home."

"What a lovely story grand-mère," said Lisette. "To go off on an adventure, to go somewhere, to go sailing away," and she thought about that. Though it was not so much the sailing away as it was the getting away, the getting away from her troubles though she suspected she got that same spirit of adventure from her grand-mère.

"So my little darling," said her grandmother to Lisette, "I think you should escape and cross the Channel and go to Dieppe to see my younger sister and to see whatever adventures you can find in France and perhaps, along the way, to meet your husband, and to escape your troubles here." She kept nodding.

And Lisette grinned though then though the grin was schooled and her face flattened. "If I do that I may never see you again, grand-mère, and what will happen to Mamma?"

"Your Mamma and I will take care of each other," said her grandmother, "but it is your time to go, otherwise you will turn into an old grand-mère yourself at the age of twenty. Now fetch me that box," and she pointed across the room. There was a trunk and a table across the room and Mrs. Mayhew still slept in front of the fire though her head looked in such a precarious position that her neck would surely ache when she would awaken. And in the box there was jewelry and there were coins and some of which was pressed into Lisette's hands.

"What you need to do is hide it in your corset, never keep it in your pockets. If someone needs it, they can wait for you to fetch it while you retrieve it. Have no more than two meals worth of money at hand keep the rest hidden in your corset," the finger came out from beneath the covers to shake at her. And then Lisette did cry with the assurance that she was saying goodbye forever to her grandmother. She had stayed far longer than she had planned.

She braved going down the grand staircase and all was dark and quiet and she snuck back into her bed. Getting out needle and thread, and being thankful that such things were readily available to a genteel lady, she worked to sew money into her corset, the money that her grand-mère had given her. She sewed the one emerald necklace from grand-mère there too and she fetched her own jewelry as well. She went to sleep wondering how many days she would have.

* * *

A/N: Someone asked about the storyline for my cross-over piece: Naughty Marietta. I am using bits from both the Jeannette MacDonald/Nelson Eddy 1935 Film about a French princess who is avoiding an arranged marriage by switching places with her maid who was to be a casket girl and travels to New Orleans (hence grand-mère's story) and the original operetta (which has some more complex story lines). I am moving the story to 1785 to be more in line with Austen but needed it to fall after the American Revolution but before the French Revolution.


	8. Chapter 8

_From place to place forlorn I go,  
_ _With down-cast eyes, a silent shade;  
_ _Forbidden to declare my woe;  
_ _To speak, 'till spoken to, afraid._

Chapter 8

Mr. Bennet came to tea the next day.

"I think you should be married with a special license," he said to his cousin.

"Sir! That is a wonderful idea!" Proclaimed the Reverend Mr. Collins. "That puts the right touch on it, a special license." The words rolled from his lips like as though he were speaking an impassioned sermon and everyone could read his happiness as he thought of what that would tell the world to be married by a special license. "Yes, do go ahead and obtain a special license."

And then Mr. Bennet looked at his foppish heir with disdain. "I am afraid, Sir, this is one thing you shall have to sort out for yourself."

The Reverend Mr. Collins was quite taken aback that there would actually have to be something he might have to do for this wedding himself and not something he could order someone else to do, order other people around him to do or to obtain. "I have no idea how to obtain a special license," he cried aloud in confusion.

Mr. Bennet let him know he would have to go to London to do it and Mr. Collins blanched at the idea. Lisette wondered why he must object to traveling and Mr. Bennet seemed to have the same idea, and said so.

"If you dislike traveling so much why are we not having the wedding here?" Though she knew her father did not want a local wedding at St. Albans as Jeannette had.

Mr. Collins swallowed and said "No, no, I will… I'll take care of it. It is just such a bother, horses and carriages and everything." Lisette wondered if he was not truly terrified of horses with his small sad pony trap.

She knew she had a few days where Cousin Collins would not come to call and she would not have to tolerate his oily presence. However if they had a special license it meant they could be married at any time it did not require the publishing of the banns for three weeks in a row and it was another hold her father would have over her, if she stepped out of line in any way, she could be hauled to the altar the next day.

She found as a few more days went by she was attempting to screw up her courage and figure out her flight and whether or not she would attempt the trip to Dieppe to see her great aunt Marie Thérèze or if she would once again run off to Lucas Lodge in the middle of the night and flee the village of Meryton and attempt to run away to Gretna Green with John.

The more she was locked up in her room walking around in stocking feet the more adventure called to her, the more the idea of escaping called out to her. She thought what it would mean to be married to John. He would not be able to return to Lucas Lodge and she really would be ruining his life, bringing him down in the world. He had not yet been ordained and what would that mean? He might never become a clergyman if he married her. She did not doubt that kindly Sir William Lucas would give him some money, support him a little but it would be a meager existence for the both of them and she did not want to do that to him; so she made her plans to flee to Dieppe and simply what was wanting was the courage to decide to do it and go.

Lisette decided to steal her father's horse. It was only five or six miles to Dover from Longbourn, but it would be the middle of the night and she wished to be assured of a swift escape and to be on a ferry over the Channel in as short a space of time as she could. It also meant someone would likely take the blame at Longbourn, but she could not worry too much about that. She could not go on a passenger ferry during the day but was hoping to be taken over on a mail boat—she knew that the lower classes did such things. She would also be going as Sir Llewellyn, in disguise, to help her escape and hide her tracks from her father. Lisette had no idea what he would make of her flight, whether he would think she had flown away with some young man or simply fled to London. Would he know she had fled to France?

She would not be able to take much and she thought of grand-mère's story of the cassette girls and their small possession bringing only their wedding dress and a few other possessions on the long voyage from France to New France so many years ago to be married, a few possessions in their casket box. In her case she was not going to be married but escaping from marriage. She did not really have a cassette and she finally found a well-worn saddle bag in the old familiar barn that she smuggled into her room to pack.

Then Lisette picked out the simplest of her dresses thinking it looked lower class enough, packed it, make sure she had sewn any valuables into her corset, dressed in her boy clothes and with the prospect of the Reverend Collins' return on the morrow, fled on horseback to Dover in the dead of night.

* * *

The trip to Dover was dark and swift. Her heart beat in her palms the entire time and she could feel it as she held the reins during her flight. When she was near enough to see the port she slowed Rhys, found a fence and dismounted. She turned him back towards Longbourn and hoped he would find his way back and not be found by someone with questionable intentions and slapped his rump and sent him running off into the darkness.

Dover was quiet for being a port town and she found few people about in the black of the morning but she did see activity as some boats were being loaded or unloaded and she watched from the shadows. Lisette found the mail boat and spent a long time then watching the men before gathering her courage to ask the quartermaster about passage to Calais.

She was almost ready to be done with adventuring after being so ill on the boat over and thought she would not venture on board a ship again but knew she could not linger there in Calais with deferential eyes and a sick face; she bought bread and cheese and headed south and away, as far away as she could from the lock and keys and restrictions and sloppy kisses and barefoot hallways of Longbourn.

* * *

Boulogne-sur-Mer winked at her from the road with her weary feet and Lisette was happy to see groups of people when before in Calais she had wished to avoid them lest she be unmasked, but Lisette realized how unused to such acute exercise she was and thought only of rest and food as she neared the city.

She did not wish to brave sitting at an inn so purchased foot from a little vendor on the street. She was cautious and wary as she walked about looking for lodging for the night.

One inn had a sign board proclaiming it had the cheapest cots in town and she inquired and was surprised at the cost and paid over her coin. Lisette was dismayed when she entered the room—the innkeeper had merely pointed the way he had not taken her or given her a key—that it was lined with bunk beds and she was to share with seven men.

Two beds were free and she sprang to a top bed and settled down for a sleepless night, lying with her head on her saddlebags and fearing for her safety lest she be discovered. She did not even remove her boots and simply lay on top of the worn, scratchy and possibly bug-infested covers.

Late in the night one of the figures rose and began a meticulous search of the bags on the ground of the other occupants and Lisette wondered about calling out but did not wish to draw attention to herself. Instead she turned heavily in the bunk, her boots thumping loudly against the frame and waking her neighbor below who saw and called out to the figure in angry words.

The room settled down into quiet again and Lisette did doze a small amount but woke when there were signs of activity and left to seek breakfast and to then head on her way to Dieppe and adventure.


	9. Chapter 9

_A wandering Gypsy, Sir, am I,  
_ _From Norwood, where we oft complain.  
_ _With many a tear, and many a sigh,  
_ _Of blustering winds, and rushing rain;  
_ _No rooms so fine, and gay attire,  
_ _Amid our humble huts appear;  
_ _Nor beds of down, or blazing fire,  
_ _At night our shivering limbs to cheer.  
_ _Alas! No friends come near our cot,  
_ _The red-breasts only find the way;  
_ _Who give their all, a simple note.  
_ _At peep of dawn or parting day.  
_ _But fortunes here I come to tell.  
_ _Then yield me, gentle Sir, your hand;  
_ _Amid those lines what thousands dwell,  
_ _And, bless me! What a heap of land!_

— _Wolcot_

* * *

Chapter 9

The man, that thief in the night, from the inn was there before her on the road. Lisette was perhaps five or six miles out of town and the road led through an overgrown wood. Short, thick bushes grew underneath the trees, green and leafy, and all lined up down along the road without a break. Lisette recalled from some history lesson than any decent sized trees near any coastline had been gone for over four hundred years because of ship-building but the prospect of walking through a shaded wood with that small agile and yet questionable man was not a pleasant idea.

"I know it was you thumping about to alert that idiot and give me away you damned buck," and then he swore using words she did not know. Her lips rose slightly at the idea that she was not completely fluent in French after all. "You will pay for that. Picking sleeping pockets is easy money for me, son, or rifling through dead ones," and he pulled out a knife then.

"I do not know you," she cried stepping back and looking around her for some avenue of escape. There was none, just the path before her or the path she had come down from Boulogne-sur-Mer and the short trees and the scrubby bushes on either side of them.

He seemed content as though he knew there was no one coming and this particular spot, this curve in the road, afforded no long view to any other travelers on this road and he looked down with a certain pride at his knife and she leaped to the right sprang through the bushes though they attempted to tear her bag from her shoulder and to where it was clear underneath the trees in the wood. A forked tree stood in front of her with a small branch calling to her to use as a hand-hold and she reached out and though it bent back in her hand she pulled with one hand and reached with the other to grasp the middle where the trunk split and to haul herself up. Lisette was fueled with fear and a sense of survival as she then looked up, spied more branches though the tree was not tall and kept going, to climb as high as she could until the branches were thin and swayed beneath her and she felt as though a bird dancing on a twig or a shaft of tall grass.

She could hear more of those swear words scrambling up through the tree branches attempting to reach her; the man had been surprised by her leap through the bushes and up into the tree. He had expected a fight or a chase, not to corner a cat in a tree. Lisette looked down at him from her perch and he reached up to grasp that first small branch and to pull himself up after her but the branch bent and broke in his hand and he had not yet reached the fork of the trunk and he slipped backwards to land on his feet and then stagger a few steps backwards. There was more cursing.

"You have cornered yourself. I may not be able to climb up, but I can wait all day," he called up to her. She did not call back to him but she thought that she too could wait all day. He did not seem the sort to have patience to be a dog and sit under the tree and wait for her to come down. He was the sort more interested in quick and easy things in life, like robbing those asleep or bullying a single youth, a young man of fourteen or so—as she pictured what she must look like to this man—he was just beyond his own youth and still self-assured with his whiskers on his cheeks and a knife in his hand and not having been caught or punished yet.

"And what happens when I piss on your head?" She called down, thinking suddenly it a good taunt, one a youth of fourteen would use. The man leaned over suddenly, stood and started throwing pebbles up at her and she held her bag up in front of her to protect herself. The foliage of the tree acted as a shield from his onslaught of stones but she was sorry then, sorry for her quick tongue as he leaned over again to snatch at pebbles and pelt her with them cursing her ever more.

They settled back down to wait, the cat in the tree and the dog on the ground and the morning wore on. Lisette had to credit him with more fortitude than she could have possibly considered as they sat in their places and played their roles. Once a wagon and a couple sets of feet went past but they were not noted and she did not call out. She thought there might be more people winding their way along the road but it was a lesser used one she had chosen in an attempt to make good time to the next village with the desire to do more than her estimated twenty miles a day on foot on her way to Dieppe. The shadows of the morning moved slowly and at one point she looked down to realize it must be mid-day and to also realize the man was relieving himself against the tree below and to wonder if he would truly play at this game and keep her treed all day and into the night.

Lisette let go of her hold on the branch and looked at the grooves that were worn in her palm and wondered that she could maintain her grip on the branches so high up. She began to move gingerly down to search for a sturdier perch yet still well out of range of the man's pebbles.

"Coming down son?" He called and laughed stepping back to look up at her. "Had enough?" He stooped to grab more ammunition from the ground as though he was tired with waiting and would take up taunting her with a teasing rain of pebbles.

"What sort of creature have you caged?" Asked a voice. The pebbles were dropped and the man turned with a jump to face a voice in the shadows somewhere among in the bushes and trees and not anywhere along the path in the woods.

"A rascal who annoys me and needs to be taught a lesson," snarled the man as he watched a middle-aged gentleman step out towards him. He was clothed far better than Lisette's tormentor and looked to be a tradesman or merchant of some sort but she had already discovered that looks were to be immediately dismissed and what she knew of life at home in England was different here in France.

The merchant looked lazily up at the youth in the tree and then down at the man. "It seems you have treed but a youth, what harm has he done you?" He asked.

"He has stolen from me," snarled the man, "he is a thief!" And he spat at the base of the tree to illustrate his point.

"So thief," called the merchant to her, "will you return what you have stolen?"

"I do not know this man," she called. "I believe we roomed at the same inn yester-eve and he accused me of interrupting his own thievery." She moved in her tree and the branches swayed a little too much and she felt dizzy suddenly with looking down on the pair squaring off against each other and the moving branches and the way the leaves shimmered in the light.

The merchant looked at her tormentor who stood his ground.

"He's a thief!" Insisted the man.

"I would say you are at an impasse and should go on your way. Or shall I go fetch a magistrate to decide between you?" Asked the merchant looking at the man with some interest, her tormentor grumbled and swore looking up at Lisette in her branches.

"You owe me!" He shouted at Lisette who held on tighter as her head swam looking down at her tormentor. He spat once more at the foot of the tree and then backed up a few steps, not turning his back for many steps before he jumped through the gap in the bushes and strode along the path back towards Boulogne-sur-Mer.

"Should you like to come down?" Asked the merchant. "I do not know what it was you quarreled over but could hear his laugh and torments from the road. I am not sure which of you is at fault so do not assume I am your friend," he cautioned. Lisette stared at the man. He was older, nearer her parents' age and dressed well though not so well as to proclaim to roving thieves to rob him, she supposed. She hesitated coming down. This was far too much interaction with any one person. She had wished for conversations of a minute here or there, to purchase food and then to be off and blend in and be gone from a town or village entirely. Her head kept spinning, however, so she slowly made her way to where the tree forked and then leaned against a large branch of the tree and let her palms rest from their desperate clutching.

"I thank you," she called down in a gruff voice. It sounded deep and she was glad it came out as a youth's voice having not thought to remember to keep it low. It being mid-day she worried the light might give her away as she still wore her corset under her clothes as the best way to hide her small amount of money and to hide her form.

"Do you need a hand down?" Asked the merchant looking up at her and taking in the stains on the cuff where she had wiped the vomit from her mouth when she was sick in the boat during the Channel crossing and the missing button on the jacket. "You have come down in the world," he said continuing to look up at her.

She looked down at her palms which were still stained with ridges where she had held on to her branches for the hours that the man had kept her up in the tree. But she wished to be on her way and away from these prying eyes now, to be closer to her goal of reaching Dieppe and her Tante Marie Thérèze. She maneuvered to hold onto the trunk and then pushed off to land on her feet, her bag flying off of her shoulder, and her feet and knees feeling strained as she landed. Her palms pushed herself up to stand as she assessed how she felt to be out of the tree. She felt stiff and sore in a way she had never known and she reached up to pull her hat down to assure her locks had not escaped before then grabbing her bag and placing it back on her shoulder.

He watched her and she felt as though he could sense her secret. Lisette was not sure if she should express her appreciation to him or not but nodded towards him.

"My horse is over there. I best get back. I am on my way to Étaples. Are you headed north or south?" He asked as he moved away as though uninterested in the question though he had asked it. She watched him go back under the dappled mid-day trees and then cut over through the bushes to a soft gray form.

His indifference won her over. Had he encouraged her to join him she would have refused, but his indifference and his mounting and riding away as she watched meant she scrambled on her feet to catch up with him—and it was really her hips and her back that seemed to be the sorest for the hours in the tree. She hastened through the cut in the bushes that the thief had taken then ran down the road to fall in place next to the man on his horse, not a well-bred horse that would appeal to Mr. Bennet, but one bred for walking long distances on roads without winding itself.

"I am for Étaples," she said simply. And they walked together for a long time without speaking. The walking helped to ease the soreness in her body though one knee twinged a bit from having landed a little too heavily when she leaped down from the tree.

"You have come down in the world, young master," said the man sometime in the middle of the afternoon. She looked sharply up at him then and then back at the ground. He had at least said 'master' and did not seem to have made out her disguise. Perhaps she could keep up the pretense and make it all the way to Dieppe.

"Yes," she answered simply. "I am…I am…," she scrambled with a story to weave in front of this man and realized she should have been better prepared for such a situation. She could not simply be a mouse skirting the edges of the room in the dark and keeping to the shadows all the way to her destination. Lisette needed a role to play; this was the beginning of her adventure and she had been loosed from the prison of Longbourn and been set free. "I am an orphan," she began with hesitation.

"I suspected as much," said the merchant and turned to look forward down the road. "But you are a recent orphan?" He asked gently of the ears of his gray horse.

Her mind whirled as to a story, which parent had died leaving her an orphan, was it worse for a boy to lose his father or his mother? She did not know but to her it was worse to be walking away from her mother. "My mother has died and I am to go seek my great-aunt, to see if she is able to help me on my way," and then she wondered if she had said too much and kept walking, her lips tightly pressed together and said no more. He did not ask her any more questions for another mile or two.

"I am Monsieur Dujardin," he said looking down at her again. She was unnerved that he was studying her as she paced beside the horse. Her feet were growing weary as they walked and she was considering a need to break and eat a bite of the cheese she had ferreted away the day before.

She did not turn to look him fully in the face but studied the buttons that ran up his leg and kept his breeches secured around his knee but also provided a pleasing detail. Cousin Collins would probably approve. Lisette had not even considered giving herself a boy's name and could not use her Welsh name, "Louis," she blurted out considering who the current French king was and adopting his name.

"Bonjour, Louis," smiled Monsieur Dujardin and they continued on their way to their destination.

* * *

Lisette was aching and hungry when they reached Étaples. The inns were all congregated near the river which led out to the Channel and she followed her not-a-friend in silence, with weariness and wariness, but feeling as though she needed a second after the events from her stay at the inn the previous night.

"Is your aunt in town? Do you know where she resides?" Asked Monsieur Dujardin as he dismounted and began to lead his horse as he walked along a street that had nothing but inn after inn shouldered next to each other. He was sizing up his final destination as he eyed each establishment.

"No," she answered and then bit her lip. She should have lied and scampered off. "I mean yes, well…," she heaved her bag to her other shoulder to shift the load off of the aches that were cramping in her shoulder and neck. "My aunt lives in Dieppe," she explained. "I will journey on tomorrow after I have eaten and rested." She sighed at having shared so much again.

"Then perhaps I will not part with you now and you might share a meal with me?" Asked Monsieur Dujardin. He had continued walking and found an inn to his liking. There was a narrow alley next to this inn which apparently denoted accommodations for horses and he led his horse there for the mare to be housed before he returned burdened with his saddle and his own bags. Lisette stepped forward and offered to help and grasped the saddle as the least offensive item to clasp, grapping it with a familiarity that made him look at her with even more intensity but he accepted Lisette's help and they entered the inn.

The innkeeper negotiated with Monsieur about his room and they departed so that Monsieur Dujardin could deposit his items in the room and return for a meal. Lisette stayed in the warmth of the great room and relaxed the tiniest bit looking around all the while at the hustle of the figures moving around and the noise of the people. The accents of them where different and she focused in on different conversations as she scanned the room attempting to discern different regional French accents just as there was different English regional accents. She supposed if she was to continue with her spirit of adventure she should learn more of the different regions in France and learn the subtlies of these accents and spend more time crafting those roles she would assume when she played them.

"Louis?" Asked a voice in her ear and she jumped. She had forgotten about being the King of France and turned quickly and then looked away, not wishing to be so close to her friend that he could see her unwhiskered cheeks.

"Monsieur," she nodded respectfully then and he led the way. She would be deferential, a lost boy seeking an apprenticeship or a master, heartbroken over the loss of his mother. His father had been a bounder and beat them both but died of drink and left them destitute. Yes, that was a nice little story to tell.

They shared a table with two men who seemed to have finished their meal long before and were working their way through drinks. She looked around to see if there was any sort of bill of fare but there only seemed to be one meal to be served to every single guest who wished to eat and Lisette realized she had been spoiled in her upbringing the times she had traveled to have had a selection when she ate on the road. She fingered the coin for the fare and plopped it on the table as her companion did the same when it was delivered and they ate without talking, lost in filling their bellies after a long day of travel. As his bowl of stew emptied he ordered a glass of ale and looked at her to inquire but she shook her head.

"Are you to continue to Dieppe tomorrow?" He broke the silence, leaning away from the table at last with his ale glass in hand. She was still working on finishing her stew, a mixture of hunger and yet finding she could not force down too much food at once.

"Yes," she replied. "I assume it is two or three more days of walking to reach Dieppe."

"Did you book a room?" He asked then and keeping a hold of her eyes.

"No," she gulped, "I feared that it would be beyond what my purse could bear here and I should look for cheaper accommodations elsewhere, but you did invite me to dine so I felt obligated to stay and eat," and she looked down at her bowl.

He took a few more pulls of his ale. "What price did you pay for your shared room last night?" She told him.

"Should you not like to bed on the floor in mine for that same price and perhaps save you the bother of an onerous roommate?" He asked.

It was with perfect nonchalance that he asked her but she felt as though her corset was being laced extra tight or as though she must fit into an old gown she had grown out of.

"It is perhaps a fair offer but may I not seek first to see if there are cheaper accommodations to be had?" She threw out, attempting to be unconcerned with sharing a room with this stranger, a strange man who had rescued her that morning but about which she had little information and of whose character she understood little.

His eyes looked at her; Lisette had been avoiding looking directly at him but took him in then. He was over forty, looked exactly who he said he was—a merchant—was probably a family man. He looked kind and straight-forward, but that could still hide hidden evils.

He finished his drink and waved for another and then waved her off wishing her luck but that he hoped they might still journey together on the morrow.

There were no cheaper accommodations to be had at the four inns she checked at, nothing nearly as generous as Monsieur Dujardin's offer and she trailed back to the first inn considering her options. Lisette did not wish a repeat of the previous night, being in a room with seven other people, seven strange men. On the other hand the possibilities for harm, she swallowed, for sharing a room with just one man were far greater and she wondered how well she had done fooling Monsieur Dujardin that she was a youth of fourteen and not a lady of twenty.

She stood with her bag on her shoulder looking out at the river that gave way to the sea and listened to the voices of the groups of people walking the streets around her, occasionally there was such a crush of people that she was knocked into and shoved against the railing.

She decided against Monsieur Duardin's offer and settled her pack on her shoulder and thumbed her waistcoat pocket and then frowned. She patted the pocket and then patted her jacket pocket and felt her heart beating against her throat. Her money was gone. Grand-mère had warned her about keeping too much in a pocket—no more than two meal's worth in her pockets at one time—but she had stupidly had a week's worth for food and lodging or more in her waistcoat pocket and it was gone; picked clean by some nimble-fingered thief sometime between paying for supper and going off to assess cheaper lodgings. A short walk had cost her a lot.

She was determined not to cry over it and thought of Uncle Philips and his lessons with her and would consider it a very costly and dear lesson learned. She walked quickly back into Monsieur Dujardin's inn and saw him finishing his second ale.

"Yours is my cheapest option," she said with her head bowed, a little breathlessly, standing by his table. "I wonder if I might take you up on your original offer?"

He yawned before replying. "Yes, of course. You almost missed me." And he stood to wave to the innkeeper that a mattress or rushes be thrown on the floor of his room for his young friend.

* * *

They talked the next day on the road, but not all the time. Often there were long stretches of silence as they traveled. He told her about his children, he had two girls and two small little boys at home. He was originally from Rouen but had moved to Le Havre because everything came by ship. All of his goods came in and out of the port; there was so much to be had from the New World. He asked tentative questions, gentle questions, about her family and while Lisette might have two sisters and parents who were still living and a grandfather and a grandmother, poor Louis only had a mother and no siblings which was why the only relative poor Louis had now was the one he was seeking: his grandmother's sister.

It was a companionable two day's journey though it was a long one to be walking. Monsieur Dujardin never once offered for her to ride on the horse or offered her room back up behind the saddle so she walked all the way to Dieppe. He was to continue on to Le Havre and was concerned to help her find her great-aunt by the time they arrived.

She had planned to change out of her boy clothes and change to her one dress before she arrived and was not sure how to rid herself of Monsieur Dujardin as they neared Dieppe. He did seem to accept her as who she said she was. There was a slight hesitation and a few probing questions as though he did not believe that Louis Sabot—her adopted identity—was exactly who he said he was and there was one time he remarked on Louis' fine clothes and she realized as they passed more people that though she thought her outfit rather plain she was better dressed than any of the servants at Longbourn and she was far better dressed than anyone that they ran into on the roads as they headed south along the English Channel with it sparkling beside them sometimes within sight, sometimes the road being a little further away that they could not see the water as they walked.

It helped to have a companion and for that she was glad. The nights never proved difficult for which she was also glad. Most inns were happy to throw a mattress or rushes on the floor and though she had only known mattresses piled high on beds and a tightly pulled rope frame when she thought of what she had escaped from she had no qualms about sleeping on a cold floor with a single blanket and only her bag on which to prop up her head.

She was thankful that he had slowed in a way—her feet were tired that last day—and they did not reach Dieppe until the evening. He was to spend the night and continue on to Le Havre as was his plan. Monsieur Dujardin was a methodical man, she had found, he would stick to his plan and she could take or leave it if she chose but he did not bend any of his plans for her needs but again she was worried that he might wish to ensure that she found her aunt and was thankful it was evening and he had settled in, found his inn and something to eat and his ale as was his want, and she sat with him because he had asked her to.

"Are you going to look for your relations tonight?" He asked after a sip.

She shook her head at her bowl. "No, Sir," she replied and stopped, being thoughtful. "I think, Sir, that I shall wait until tomorrow to seek her out," she replied at last and then took another mouthful of food.

"You are nervous," he said.

"Yes," she whispered. She realized exactly how nervous she was. She did not want him to go on until she found out but she could not find out until he had gone on. She did not know then what she wanted to do, to keep up the disguise of the boy and continue on and to beg him for a job—for something to do—but she did not know if she could keep up this farce forever. At some point he would discover her and she thought about that, if she got too close to any one person they would discover her past and might betray her to Longbourn and that she could not bear to happen. As kind as he had been she would need to say her goodbyes and find some amount of pride in having gotten this far, a girl in boy's clothes, and so she found a sense of pride and said, "I am sure, Sir, that she is here, or that there is someone here."

And he smiled at her confidence. She had shared that day about losing her lodging money and why she had stayed with him that first night, that she had meant to try it on her own and that it had been a hard lesson.

"You have learned a lot, Louis, in just in a couple of days," he replied after another sip of ale.

"You sound like my uncle," she replied.

"You had not mentioned an uncle," he raised his eyebrows. And she realized her slip-up.

"He was a friend of the family's," she burst out, inventing, her mind whirling, "a friend of Mamma's," and then her stomach knotted and she hoped he did not think too poorly of her mother.

"Ah," he said, "but you will not look until tomorrow."

"I do not know that people will wish to be disturbed so late in the evening," she argued.

"You will need a corner to sleep in?" And he grinned a little then as though to say he had been glad of her company and she grinned a little back.

"Yes, Sir," she nodded.

* * *

They parted early in the morning and shook hands. After clasping them, he let go of hers and then said, "those hands have not known hard work. I suspect you have really come down in the world, young man, but good luck to you," and he mounted his horse.

"Thank you, Sir," she replied and bowed.

"Look me up if you are ever in Le Havre; do call on me," he called down to her.

Louis Sabot said, "Yes, Sir," and bowed again.

"Best of luck young man," and Monsieur Dujardin departed.

"Thank you, Sir," she called after him and watched him disappear down the road.

* * *

A/N: a little longer for a single chapter than I normally post but it did not break in two easily.


	10. Chapter 10

_Ask me why I send you here  
_ _This firstling of the infant year;  
_ _Ask me why I send to you  
_ _This primrose all bepearl'd with dew;  
_ _I straight will whisper in your ears,  
_ _The sweets of love are wash'd with tears:  
_ _Ask me why this flow'r doth show  
_ _So yellow, green and sickly too;  
_ _Ask me why this stalk is weak,  
_ _And bending yet it doth not break;  
_ _I must tell you these discover  
_ _What doubts and fears are in a lover._

—Thomas Carew

* * *

Chapter 10

Monsieur Dujardin headed west on his horse and Louis Sabot departed in the opposite direction. Lisette wandered out, back out of town before she found what looked a sheltered place and removed the now quite stained clothes of Sir Llewellyn or Louis and threw on her dress. She looked at it with new eyes. She realized she had though it a quite simple dress when she had packed it but it now spoke to her of being in quite a different station than most of the people she had seen in her travels . She left on her boots but hoped her skirts would hide them and she walked back to the outskirts of town, back to Dieppe.

She received far more attention dressed in her skirts than she did as a youth despite the shawl draped over her head because she had no ladies hat. Lisette was not sure if the attention was due to her face or her clothes or the fact that she was strolling about unescorted, or if it was a combination of all of those factors. The men stared at her with an openness she was not comfortable with and the women with a certain suspicion.

She asked at a shop for the Millefleur house which had been the last house address given to her grand-mère by her Tante Marie Thérèze. Dieppe was a small town and she easily found her way there. She knocked at the door.

"If you please, Sir," she began but then paused looking at the man who answered the door. The man did not look like a servant but a resident. "I am looking for Madame Tabanier," she continued and gave a slight curtsey. He stared at her with her dirty hair hidden under the shawl and her rather clean dress though the hem of it had been trailed through the dirt of the streets and her well-worn boots peeking out.

"Mademoiselle," he said finding his tongue as though he had lost it in staring at her. "What do you want with her?" His voice was rather sharp and he was suspicious with the door only partially open.

"If you please, Sir, I am her niece," she said in a soft but insistent voice.

"A niece!" He cried and looked at her with an appraising eye and even more concern. "I did not know she had much family," and his eyebrows knitted together as he looked at her.

"She has many brothers and sisters," Lisette insisted. Lisette did not know who this man was who barred the door at her aunt's house. "My grandmother is her oldest sister, Madame Briard. I know Madame Tabanier is the youngest but one in the family—it was a large family, Sir. The family name is Nezat."

He looked surprised at her speech and ran a hand over his short and uneven beard. "That is true but not many know that much. Come in," and he finally stepped back and held the door open for her.

Now that she was invited in Lisette was not sure if she wished to enter but she stepped over the threshold and entered into a small, cramped hallway. The man closed the door and then walked past her and entered a room on the right.

"Sylvie!" He called in quite a loud voice, "come and meet our cousin!"

Lisette stopped in the doorway and peered into the room. It was empty of occupants but had chairs and a sofa—all of nice quality—there was a dining table at the far end.

"Sylvie!" Called the man who had indicated he was a cousin. It seemed grand-mère was wrong and that Tante Marie Thérèze had children. A woman came through a door at the end of the room.

"Serge?" She asked as she wiped her hands on a towel looking from the man to Lisette.

"This young woman is a long-lost cousin come home to visit though I am not sure where she has come from," he turned to look at Lisette, "she has a most interesting accent!" His smile was wide and his eyes gleamed with a sort of prophetic happiness as though he had been waiting for her to turn up though he had not known she existed until five minutes ago. "Please cousin, come in and sit." His arm swept around the room as though she was to choose any of the seats that were available.

He was dark, like any Frenchman, and compact. Perhaps he was a little short with darker skin than the English have, black hair and a shortly cropped beard. He had a sharply pointed nose which looked like a woodcarver had shaved it a little too closely and made it a little too thin and pointy perhaps due to too much drink. He had a certain air about him, however, that Lisette felt she could not look away and wished to stay and hear what he had to say. An image of Georges Gaspard came to mind, though the groom was far handsomer, and she thought, perhaps, there must be something about Frenchmen, a certain charm and charisma.

Lisette chose a chair and waited for Sylvie, his wife, she assumed, to come join them. Sylvie was quite beautiful, on a par with her own sister Jeannette. Her face was like a diamond with a high wide forehead, beautiful cheeks, slightly plump; her eyes were large but with heavy lids as though she were perpetually sleepy but it gave quite a sensual look to her dark eyes below. Her hair was a light brown but she wore it down and loose and it was of the type that any amount of sun kissed it golden and there were curls of gold around the forehead and curving in underneath her chin and hanging down on her chest. Lisette's eyes followed those curls down and saw that beneath that towel she was heavy with child.

Sylvie came more into the room and Serge waved the women into seats before seating himself, not quite the gentlemanly manners Lisette was used to, but her world had changed with her adventure.

"I am Lisette Bennet, from England," she said.

"Ah!" He cried, "the accent!" He himself was full of pauses and exclamations in his own speech; she thought he was amusing in the way he spoke.

"Grand-mère settled there after her two youngest daughters married Englishmen. I have or had another aunt who married a Frenchman years ago, but she died in…" and then she paused to look at the wife with her heavy belly and left her sentence unfinished.

"And you have come to France?" He asked.

"Yes," she said. "I was hoping to see Tante Marie Thérèze. Grand-mère said she was widowed and living alone and might take me in."

Serge's face lost some of its happiness and he looked over at his wife. Lisette looked at the exchange.

"Tell me, has she died?" She cried. The couple looked at each other with even more alarm on their faces and she began to feel as though she wished she had stayed with Monsieur Dujardin and continued on to Le Havre that morning.

"No, no," and he held his hands out and gestured for her to remain seated. "No, she is alive. She has simply chosen to withdraw from life. She entered a convent about a year ago."

Lisette looked at her cousin while her mind worked on his information. All of her energy had been to get here, to see grand-mère's sister, Marie Thérèze. She had not been quite sure what sort of life awaited her once she arrived; what role she would play when she reached Dieppe and Tante Marie Thérèze's side but that was to be denied her now. No companion or lady's maid to her great-aunt or no fine life if she lived in better circumstances than this small cramped house where the ceiling felt as though it was so near that Lisette could reach up and touch it if she stood on her toe tips.

"You left England?" He prompted. He was the type to pull information from people but he did not seem to be forthcoming with any of his own. Lisette felt as though she kept throwing losing dice rolls; she would rectify that.

"You said I was a cousin, so you are cousins to me? Are you Marie Thérèze's grandson Mr. Serge…?" she asked, prompting.

"Ah! No! Marie Thérèze did not have any children and has been widowed for a long time. She is my great-aunt as well." He smiled again. All the while his wife remained silent and sat in her chair with her towel on her lap and listened to them speak. "My grand-père is her next older brother, Gaston Nezat. We grew up in Harfleur and moved here when Tante Marie Thérèze entered the convent. She willed both of us the house, you see," and he smiled again and suddenly her Cousin Collins came to mind and she was put to mind to be cautious though he claimed to be her cousin.

What to tell her newly discovered family members? Did she share the truth of her flight from Longbourn and her forced alliance with her father's heir, or did she create some half-truths? She had already told them her real name and that she came from England which might have been a mistake, but she had come thinking this was her Tante Marie Thérèze's house and not known who lived here and what the circumstances were at Millefleur House.

"Are there other cousins around?" She asked. "Grand-mère was the oldest though she married later than many women do, and then she left France. She said she quite lost touch with her brothers and sisters when she crossed the Channel."

"We are scattered everywhere," he answered and looked at his wife then back to Lisette, "I do not see anyone in particular, but now you have come. We should have a little feast, no?" And he looked again at his wife.

"I, I shall stay to partake tea," she said, wishing to be kind and still attempting to create a story to share with her cousins.

He laughed; it was quite the belly laugh for such a small and wiry-framed man. "Partake tea! How English, you are most amusing cousin. Come," and he stood and walked to her and held his hand out to her. She was not sure if he wished to shake her hand or to help her up and she looked at him in confusion. "Come," and he shook his hand at her, "let us go to the kitchen and see what sort of meal we can make so that we might 'partake tea' with each other!" She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet, and she left her saddlebags on the chair behind her. "Come Sylvie, let us all partake tea," and he waved his wife in front of them and the trio walked to the kitchen together all the while Serge Nezat laughed.

The kitchen smelled wonderful and Serge and Sylvie began rifling through baskets and tins to pull out items for their feast, simple fare: uncooked vegetables, bread and cheeses and dried meats, and they were sliced and put onto plates as Lisette watched. It was not yet time for a noonday meal and yet they seemed to be preparing quite a feast; she had no idea what sort of meals the French took and whether they mimicked the English and their meals.

The food was carried with plates into the front room and they sat at the dining table to eat though not without Sylvie first whispering a short prayer and crossing herself. Lisette had to remember the French were Catholic.

"You have come to France?" Prompted Cousin Serge after they had all taken their first mouthful. "Are you here on a visit, or for other reasons? Did you not say you wished to be taken in?"

Lisette wished she had not said as much as she had and discovered more who these people were, known more of their characters first. She swallowed her bread.

"Yes, cousin, I have left England. My home is not a happy one; I am not wanted by my father and my sisters have both married." She was attempting to paint a pathetic portrait of herself but without revealing her hand too much.

"Why did you simply not marry?" He asked with a quizzical look on his face as though it seemed the obvious and easiest solution.

"I had no one to marry," she answered.

"Such a pretty thing as you and no one to marry?" His eyebrows rose to his hairline. He looked at his wife, "Sylvie, do you not think she is a pretty little thing? Why we can find you a husband here in France easily, Cousin Lisette!" He grinned as though he could have her married in a week.

"You are blessed with sisters?" Asked Sylvie. Her voice was sweet and melodical and suited her beautiful face.

"Yes, Jeannette, and Lydie; they are both quite beautiful and captured a man's heart," answered Lisette, silently adding 'and escaped from our tyrannical Papa.'

"Such sweet names," said Sylvie but her husband seemed fixated on the idea of being able to help Lisette.

"Perhaps we can help you find a good Frenchman to marry you. Do you have a place to stay? Any money?" He asked as he ate.

"No, I had hoped to stay with Tante Marie Thérèze, you see, grand-mère sent me here thinking she could help me since I was not wanted at home." She paused as she considered the question about the money. "I have some coins grand-mère gave me but assumed I would earn my keep once I arrived in Dieppe." She smiled then at her cousins, strangers to her an hour ago, and wondered what she was to do and whether they would take her in and whether she would stay if they offered.

"Ah. We do not have much money, you see," he began to explain, "but it you can earn your keep, perhaps you can stay here. There is the second room, upstairs."

* * *

Lisette had agreed to Monsieur Dujardin's company far more readily than she took to Cousin Serge Nezat's company. She offered to pay for her room and board and he eagerly accepted her coin; and it was far cheaper than the cost of staying at an inn.

She had no notion of what his occupation was though he said he worked in a shop somewhere on the waterfront and left Lisette and Sylvie alone for most of the day. Some days, unaccountably he would be home, however, and underfoot. Others he would be gone before breakfast and forget to return home until past supper and it was dark and Sylvie's face was lined with worry. Lisette suspected that his occupation skirted the law.

Lisette kept to her story of an unwanted, poor English girl, her sisters married, lonely in a house with no companions without speaking of her father's wealth and reputation. She had the feeling that would make Serge's eyes shine.

Her first days in the house with Sylvie were tentative ones as they worked out how their relationship was to work. She had no wish to remain a spoiled English woman wishing to be waited on, yet had no notion of how anything in a household worked. She knew one boiled water in a pot to make tea yet was absolutely surprised how long it seemed to take when she sat and watched the pot hanging over the fire in the kitchen, how long it took to come to a boil. And what did it mean to _boil_ , exactly?

At first Sylvie prepared all the meals, but on Lisette's third day she offered to help and was given a knife and a carrot and then had to confess she had no notion of what to do which made Sylvie burst out laughing with the same sort of force that her husband had done.

"I had thought, with your fine dress that you have never known work in a kitchen," Sylvie had laughed at Lisette who took no offense and insisted on being shown what to do. She made a miserable job of the carrot, all uneven pieces and Sylvie laughed again at the mess but they still went into the stew pot. Lisette watched with amazement at the rapidity and evenness with which Sylvie could chop a carrot in a few seconds.

Over the first week the two women developed a small bond as they worked on food preparation. Lisette was amazed how much time of every day had to be spent on preparing food to be consumed and it gave her a new respect for the kitchens at Longbourn and the denizens of them who worked long hours to provide the master of Longbourn with choice delicacies.

The pair would visit the markets and purchase foodstuffs and Lisette watched and listened as Sylvie, who was quiet and shy at home, would haggle and argue with merchants over the price of food. Dieppe was a small town, along the lines of Meryton, and Lisette quickly became familiar with its layout, loving the little protected harbor area and listening to the sounds of the water, the cacophony of voices and the noise of feet on the ground as she walked its streets and the quayside.

* * *

Sylvie's melodic voice was given to singing and she liked to sing as she worked which lifted Lisette's low spirits more than anything else that first week at the Millefleur house. Her cousin's wife taught her a cadre of new songs in French; calling to her one line at a time and having Lisette repeat back to her until she mastered the song and they could sing in harmony together as they worked in the kitchen.

 _Ye virgin pow'rs defend my heart  
From am'rous looks and smiles,  
From saucy love or nicer art  
Which most our sex beguiles;  
From sign and vows,  
From aweful fears  
That do to pity move.  
From speaking silence and from tears,  
those springs that water love._

Lisette would also sing or hum the English songs she had learned though Sylvie knew no English. But Sylvie would hum along with her as they worked together.

Lisette's unfinished tune would burble up at times as she worked and she felt as though she had added to it, it had another few beats to it; those French songs that Sylvie had taught her had helped her to embellish it but it still remained an enigma, a puzzle to be solved. It would come to her at odd moments and poke and prod at her brain or inside of her as though demanding its resolution and though she had a few more bars it still was undone.

After learning some of the basics of cooking, Sylvie began to teach her how to wash her own clothes and Lisette never knew her hands could ever turn so red. The soap seemed to almost eat away at her delicate hands and they were so raw and red that she could not help Sylvie with food preparation for a few days. Her dress was rapidly becoming stained and she would need a second to change into. The money in her corset was being whittled down but she used a few coins to purchase a second-hand skirt and a top. It was a new experience to have an item of clothing not made to fit her body exactly. The bodice was a blue and green pattern and laced simply up the front and fitted a little loosely having been made for a slightly larger woman and in a style, perhaps, from five or ten years ago. The skirt was simple and full.

Lisette had brought two items of jewelry with her. One was a beautiful necklace her grand-mère had given her and she intended to retain that as long as she could, but she had a necklace and matching earrings that had been given to her by Mrs. Bennet who had been thinking of Lisette's own come-out. Her mother had, apparently, despite all that fuss about Jeannette's wedding, thought about Lisette herself going to London and having a season so she had given her some jewelry.

A wave of sadness hit her as Lisette sat in her room at the top of the narrow staircase and she contemplated her new life; it was to have been an grand adventure but she missed her mother fiercely as she sat on her narrow bed, holding onto the edge of it and cried as she wondered how Mrs. Bennet fared at home under the thumb of her father. She dried her eyes and looked down at the earrings, small pearl-drop earrings—the pearl necklace was still hidden away—she had decided to ask Serge to sell them for her to ensure she had enough money. It was also a small test as she was not entirely sure how much she trusted her cousin who said he worked in a merchant's shop but kept odd working hours—a schedule that obviously worried his wife very much. Lisette had deep suspicions that he worked in something like the black market as well as in the shop he was supposed to set off for each morning.

Cousin Nezat was quite happy to fulfill his commission and took the earrings with him on his way to his shop in the morning and returned with a small handful of silver écus in the evening.

"Ah! I negotiated a very good price for you, my dear cousin," he said as he sat and laid the pile of coins next to Lisette's plate and then began to tackle his food. "You should be set for money for a while now and not need to think of finding some employment…or a husband." He grinned then as he chewed on his pie, a vegetable pie that Sylvie had baked with Lisette's help in chopping the vegetables. The dough work had been beyond her fingers. While Sylvie had explained how pastry should be handled, kneeded and touched with delicacy; the woman of the house had seemed to think it would be beyond Lisette's abilities so had only explained what needed to be done though she did let Lisette sing to her as she made the pastry for the pie.

Lisette finished her meal before she examined the small stack of coins near her plate. She was still learning the cost of items in French coins—the Louis d'or and the silver écu—and how they were measured or accounted for in a unit called a livres; she eyed the pile of coin and considered it a paltry sum for her pearl earrings. She smiled however, and looked at her cousin.

"Thank you, Cousin Serge, for your troubles in selling my earrings. This money shall certainly help." She picked up the pile and placed it in the pocket that was hidden beneath the slit in her skirt. Lisette strongly suspected that he had pocketed a fair portion from the sale of her earrings but held her tongue. She had very few cards to play in this game and was grateful and, for the most part, happy to have escaped Longbourn and her forced marriage to Cousin Collins.

"My pleasure to help my little sweet Cousin Lisette!" He replied and went back to tackling his meal. He consumed his pie as though it were a meat pie and not simply made of leeks and carrots and other vegetables chopped and cooked up and wrapped with dough that had been sweetened with song.


	11. Chapter 11

_Come, Chloe, and give me sweet kisses,  
_ _For sweeter sure girl ever gave,  
_ _But why, in the midst of my blisses,  
_ _Do you ask me how many I'd have?_

 _I'm not to be stinted in pleasure,  
_ _Then prithee, my charmer, be kind,  
_ _For whilst I love thee beyond measure,  
_ _To numbers I'll ne'er be confin'd._

* * *

Chapter 11

Lisette had been gone from home for over two weeks now. It had taken her four days to reach Dieppe on foot and then she had settled into a small life with her cousin and his wife though there was not much adventuring to it. She was learning how to cook and how to wash clothes and Serge Nezat joked that his family was training her how to be a good wife. She considered what her options for the future might be. Grand-mère had talked of travel and adventures and Lisette thought she should like to see more of the world and not be stuck in a room with red hands and boiling water and caustic soap as she washed clothes and sheets and towels. Laundry was not the adventure she considered when running away from Longbourn.

Her skirt was damp and hanging heavily in the front when she finished wringing the sheets and hanging them in the small yard that lay behind the kitchen. Lisette moved back inside, stopping in the kitchen to clean up all the traces of her work. Sylvie had gone to the marketplace to select items for their next meal. Lisette went back through the common sitting room and up the stairs to her own room to change from her clothes. The wet skirt had to be tackled first; she untied the laces with some difficulty, the wetness making the knots in the skirt ties difficult to undo. She heard the door open and close and supposed that Sylvie had returned. The skirt slipped to the floor and she left it there in a puddle and began unlacing her bodice.

A tenor voice sang up to her, up the staircase, and she stopped to listen considering that she had not heard Cousin Serge sing before. She finished unlacing the bodice and then stopped as she realized that the voice was growing louder as he came up the stairs. He was also singing in English; Lisette had not known that he spoke any English. The song was a bawdy one, about a lusty blacksmith and a lady with a roving eye.

 _A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing,  
_ _Rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!  
_ _When to him a buxom young damsel came smiling,  
_ _And asked if to work at her forge he would go,  
_ _With a rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_

 _"A match!" quoth the smith so away they went thither,  
_ _Rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!  
_ _They stripped to go to't, 'twas hot work and hot weather,  
_ _She kindled a fire and soon made him blow,  
_ _With a rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_

 _Her husband, she said, could scarce raise up his hammer,  
_ _His strength and his tools were worn out, were worn out …_

She blushed as she stood and listened to the graphic antics of the pair in the song and then the door opened and a strange man stood in the small doorframe and the song died on his lips.

"Who are you?" She cried at the same time pulling her bodice closed.

"Who are you?" He yelped in the same moment. He wore the blue coat of the French army though his pants did not appear to be of a uniform and tall boots. He had, perhaps, taken off his hat downstairs but carried a pack, saddlebags, quite like her own, which dangled from his shoulders.

Her chemise came down to only cover her knees and she kneeled to get her skirt and hold it in front of her.

"What are you doing in my bedroom?" She cried when she stood.

He looked at her and let his saddlebags fall off of his shoulder and dangle from his hands. "What are you doing in _my_ bedroom?" He asked in return, looking at her as she held her bodice closed with one hand and held her skirt up with the other.

"Your bedroom?" she cried. "Who are you?"

"Gérard Nezat, this is my house," he said and let the bags fall with a thump on the floor.

"Nezat!" She cried. She looked at him and she saw that he must be a relative, probably a brother of Serge. He was a few inches taller, more handsome as though that woodcarver had not been drunk before chipping away at his face. His nose was thin and straight but was not missing that divot at the end. He was lean and compact and athletic just like his brother. He did not wear a beard but he had not shaved in a number of days as if he had been on the road. Lisette thought that he was the older brother and not the younger. She thought that odd that the younger brother would stay home and the older would go to serve in the army. It was not the way they did it in England.

"Yes," he cried, "who are you?"

"Lisette," she said.

"I noticed that Sylvie is gone. Is Serge up to his old games again? Is he around today and not working again?" She was horrified by his suggestion and he seemed then to be taken aback as he realized that she was not some light skirt having a dalliance with his brother. He took a small step back out of the doorway and he thought differently of the state of her undress and of her embarrassment and turned his eyes from her and looked at the ground in front of her and she could tell that he was disconcerted.

"I am Lisette Bennet," she explained, "I am your cousin. I have been staying here for a couple of weeks."

"A cousin!" He exclaimed then with his eyes still on the ground, "pardon!" He snatched up his bags and turning, shut the door.

She stripped off her bodice and found her other dress, the one she had brought with her from Longbourn and changed quickly and gathered up her skirt and her top and then tentatively opened the door and peered down the stairwell not that she expected him to be lurking outside the door. Lisette made her way down the stairs and into the common room and found him sitting there. When she walked in with her damp skirt and her splotched bodice in her arms he was looking through his saddlebags but he stood up and it made her melancholy, it was a symbol, and harkened back to her old life to have a gentleman stand when she entered the room.

He looked at her and took in her dress and said in English. "My apologies, mademoiselle, for disturbing you."

"How do you know that I speak English?" She asked in her own tongue. He waited for her to take a seat.

"I know most of our cousins, and that dress is very English dress," he continued in careful but broken English.

"Oh dear!" She said. She switched to French. "You do speak English very well."

"Your French is practically flawless," he replied.

"Grand-mère always spoke to me in French," she said.

"And is that how we are related, we have the same grandmother?" He asked. And then she explained how they were related, that they shared the same great-grandparents.

"Ah!" He said, he would say that a lot just as his brother did.

"Monsieur Nezat," she began.

"Gérard," he interrupted, "my name is Gérard."

"Monsieur Gérard then," she said, "do I assume you are brother to Monsieur Serge?"

"Yes," and he nodded.

"You said you owned this house?" She asked gesturing around the room.

"Yes, we were given this together." She harkened back to what Serge had said that Tante Marie Thérèze had given it to the pair of them and she had assumed back then he meant Serge and Sylvie but it was, in fact, Serge and Gérard.

The wet items in her hands were starting to soak into her current dress. "You will pardon me, but these must be hung up. I only have two items to wear," and she stood up to take them outside and hang them to dry.

Sylvie came home while she was outside and she could hear exclamations of surprise and by the time she came back in from getting her wet skirt and bodice hung up she was not there to have seen Sylvie's exact reaction to her brother-in-law's return and whether it had been expected or unexpected.

They seemed to be talking about what to do with him when Lisette walked back in. Gérard was saying he would get along fine on the lounge and then Lisette realized that she was sleeping in his bed.

"I should move out," she said as she came up to them. "I have no possessions and I do not really need the room." An argument ensued between them as to which was to have the room with the narrow bed and which was to sleep on the sofa. It ended only with Gérard lying down and proving that he did actually fit on the sofa in the common room and insisted he would be comfortable. Lisette felt it was unfair that he should have to do so.

When Serge came home he thought it the funniest of jokes to have his brother come home to his house to then have to sleep on the sofa though no one quite understood what he thought the joke was, but perhaps it was that Gérard had come home to his own house but he had no bedroom to sleep in because a pretty little cousin was in his bed, that seemed to be the twinkle in Serge's eyes. He looked at his brother and he looked at his cousin and he thought of all the times he had said he would marry Lisette off and here was a match right in front of him, such an easy match to be had.

* * *

Gérard was different from his brother though there were some similarities that she noted. She thought that they both had the same charm and charisma, that charm that she had seen that first day and which she continued to see in all the successive days in Serge—and had seen in the groom Georges Gaspard—she wondered again if it was not a trait of all Frenchmen. Perhaps not all Frenchmen, but many, as she wandered with Sylvie in the marketplace, but young Frenchman to be sure.

As she had thought in that first meeting, Gérard was more handsome that his brother, and as near as she could tell he was past his mid-twenties. He was garrisoned in a fortification at Saint-Vaast-la-Hougue as part of some French defense system which was one many fortifications that had been established to preserve the country from attack. He had been given a sort of leave to come home and so he had set off to Dieppe, charming his way on farm carts or other modes of transportion to come for a visit to his family. He acted more like a gentleman; standing when she entered a room which Serge thought was funny as Serge never did that for his wife or Lisette.

Lisette shared her story, half-true and half made-up about her broken home. Gérard seemed more concerned about her story of being unwanted and she was not sure if he was more concerned for her, or if he did not believe her, and she tried as much as she could to put off talking about her life in England. It was difficult because he was home and underfoot all the time and he was the sort to be peppering her with questions about her former life and waiting for the answers. He asked big questions and little; he asked questions about her grand-mère, her father, he asked far more questions about her mother and her sisters and managed to pry out the fact that Lydie had eloped with a French groom and that Jeannette had a lavish wedding.

He discovered on his second day at home—found her humming—how much she liked to sing and would come to her and asked her to sing for him. Somehow he found out she could play the pianoforte and that got him to raise an eyebrow. "Ah! You have had lessons in musical instruments," he had said, "so despite those poor hands," and he had looked down at her hands which were still red and raw from the laundry and nicked in a few places from chopping, "you have had lessons in music." She could only give him a "perhaps" on that.

She could not fault having a young man at her elbow and his attentions. There was something delightful about that, something fulfilling. She had been lonely and homesick and Gérard had turned up just when she had faltered and she was considering what she wanted to do and he filled in a need, a part of her that was wanting and she just gave in to that need she gave in to his dancing attention on her. Gérard seemed to think his leave had been designed to come home to Lisette. And she thought as the days went by that he might, perhaps, be falling in love with her. One night as she was falling asleep, she wondered if he was in love with her. What would it mean if the obvious conclusion to that happened and they got married and she lived in Dieppe, or she moved to be with him at his garrison and was that permitted? Were men in the army allowed to marry and have their wives near and she realized then that she did not know his rank or what ranks there were in the French army and what did this all mean?

She thought, perhaps, she was a little in love with him. It was fun and far better than being at home at Longbourn under lock and key and with the oily Reverend Collins plastering kisses on her cheeks and instead she was learning things even if the laundry meant she had red hands. She was getting better at cooking, knew what boiling meant now; she could chop carrots almost evenly.

She considered whether she was truly in love with Gérard. He was handsome and charming and it was so pleasing to have someone at her elbow. It had been as if his leave _had been_ created for him to be with her. Lisette had had men pay marked attention to her before, but she had so often suspected it to be for mixed reasons; so often because her father was so rich and influential and not because the man in question was interested in her.

She was not sure she knew what love was; it was exciting to have someone be at her beck and call and to take her around and show her parts of Dieppe that Sylvie did not know or could not show her. He was loose with his money and took her to dine one evening at a café, something she had never done before, go to eat with a man at a café. She had eaten in establishments when traveling, but then it had been with her family and because there was the necessity to eat and they were on the road. This was something more intimate, to eat at a place other than one's home and to enjoy the pleasure and the company of a man.

Lisette thought about talking to Jeannette after she had come home to prepare for her wedding and of her sister describing her feelings of love for Mr. Bingley. The couple had similar interests and opinions and yet still there had been a fluttering inside her, Jeannette had explained, that proverbial tugging at her heart whenever she saw Mr. Bingley. Lisette could not say she felt that way about Gérard.

He was exciting and thrilling to be with—he stoked her sense of adventure—and she supposed there was a certain physical attraction she would admit to as well; his touch was electrifying. She was far more aware of his body whenever he was near than she had ever been with any other man before. Cousin Collins' form had repulsed her; his was a form she had recoiled from as though it was scalding water or an unpleasant smell. She had scrubbed every single one of his kisses from her cheeks or her knuckles. John Lucas' kisses had been sweet and light and playful like the movements through a dance or soft rain on her skin. To be with Gerard was to always notice his warmth, to find herself perpetually cold and wish to sit next to him on the sofa or to stay close to him as they walked.

* * *

A/N: For all that folks may complain about explicit lyrics in 21st century songs, this 18th century one is quite bawdy!

The Lusty Young Smith

 _A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing,_  
 _Rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_  
 _When to him a buxom young damsel came smiling,_  
 _And asked if to work at her forge he would go,_  
 _With a rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_

 _"A match!" quoth the smith so away they went thither,_  
 _Rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_  
 _They stripped to go to't, 'twas hot work and hot weather,_  
 _he kindled a fire and soon made him blow,_  
 _With a rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_

 _Her husband, she said, could scarce raise up his hammer,_  
 _His strength and his tools were worn out, were worn out long ago._  
 _If she got her journeymen, could any blame her?_  
 _"Look here," quoth our workman, "my tools are not so!"_  
 _With a rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_

 _Red hot grew his iron, as both did desire,_  
 _And he was too wise not to strike, not to strike while 'twas so!_  
 _Quoth she, "What I get, I get out of the fire,_  
 _Then prithee, strike home and redouble the blow!"_  
 _With a rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_

 _Six times did his iron, by vigorous heating,_  
 _Grow soft in the forge in a minute, a minute or so._  
 _As often, 'twas hardened, still beating and beating,_  
 _But the more it was softened, it hardened more slow,_  
 _With a rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_

 _The smith then would go. Quoth the dame, full of sorrow:_  
 _"Oh what would I give, would I give, could my cuckold do so!_  
 _Good lad, with your hammer, come hither tomorrow,_  
 _But pray, can't you use it once more e're you go?"_  
 _With a rub rub rub, rub rub rub, in and out, in and out, ho!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Too plain, dear youth, these tell tale eyes  
_ _My heart your own declare;  
_ _But, for heav'ns sake, let it suffice,  
_ _You reign triumphant there._

 _Forebear your utmost pow'r to try,  
_ _Nor farther urge your sway;  
_ _Press not for what I must deny,  
_ _For fear I should obey,  
_ _For fear I should obey._

* * *

Chapter 12

Being near Gérard , as they walked by the quayside side by side, was thrilling she could sense his body as though it was a magnet. She wanted always to be reaching over to touch him in some way or clasp his hand though she never did. If there was a crowd or a puddle he might take her hand and lead her around the obstacle, his hand warm in hers, a vibration running up her arm and her heart beating a little faster.

Gérard took her along the shoreline where there were high cliffs and a small rocky beach where not many chose to walk. Lisette told him about hearing him sing that first day: his lusty blacksmith song and asked him to sing again. An Englishman might have blushed but he smiled and said he would not sing _that_ song again, however, he did serenade her with new songs in French.

 _By dimpled brook and fountain brim,  
_ _The wood nymphs deck'd with daises trim,  
_ _Their merry wakes and pastimes keep,  
_ _What has night to do with sleep,  
_ _What has night to do with sleep?_

 _Night has better sweets to prove,  
_ _Venus now wakes and wakens Love.  
_ _Come let us our rites begin,  
_ ' _Tis only daylight that makes sin,  
_ ' _Tis only daylight that makes sin._

She thought her knees would buckle under her listening to his voice echo off of the cliffs and it was the happiest moment since the day of Jeannette's wedding. She recalled playing and singing herself that long-ago evening and guests clapping and cheering for her and feeling so ecstatic.

Gérard took her hand and kissed it with a feather-light touch and then retained it in his own as they walked back to Millefleur House. They did not speak much as they walked back from the beach, in past the harbor and then past the shops and towards their house.

"Should we eat at a café this evening?" He asked as they left the harbor area behind them and headed closer to home.

"Perhaps Sylvie is counting on us eating at home," she answered though the prospect of sitting out at a café with Gérard again sounded lovely. Her head was full that afternoon of more happy and fanciful thoughts than she had allowed herself in over a year.

"She would spare us; I am sure," he said as they neared the house. The street was busier than usual with some men walking far in front and a few women with baskets bringing home provisions but she did not pay them much attention. Gérard unlocked the door and they entered the house.

"Sylvie!" Lisette called as she began walking towards the kitchen to seek out her friend, but her hand was tugged back and Gérard looked down at her and put a hand on her waist.

"Lisette," he said as he leaned over. A knock at the front door stopped his kiss and he brought his hand from her waist to touch her cheek and went to answer the door. She stepped away and went to see if Sylvie was in the kitchen. Her friend was not there or in the small yard behind and Lisette could hear voices at the front door and went back through to the front room to then peer tentatively around the doorjamb at Gérard at the front door.

"…not know this person, but you can search if you are so insistent she is here," she saw that Gérard had one hand hidden by the partially closed door and he was waving it as if to tell her to hide or to flee. Lisette ran through the doorway and went up the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could. Her ears were open now to all the sounds and voices from below as she reached her room and went in, finding her saddlebags and looking at the tiny room with its narrow bed and found there was really no mark she had made to show of her time in that room in Dieppe. Her dress that she had worn when she came there hung on the line out back. She was wearing her second-hand skirt and bodice though she had her boy's clothes packed in the saddlebags. She had purchased proper ladies shoes which were on her feet and she then thought of the men's boots and found them stuffed back underneath the bed and hauled them out, pulling them on and putting the ladies shoes in the bags.

There were sounds of voices and men below as they searched in the common room and kitchen and she peered out into the yard and saw a man looking at her dress hanging there along with some sheets and towels.

"There's a lady's dress here, Sir! Seems right fancy," said the man. He was not dressed as a soldier and she had no idea who he or the other men were but her mind whirled, considered the snippets she heard. Somehow there were men looking for her and she had to consider her father had sent them. The man took the bodice and the skirt off of the line and brought them inside. "I wonder how much they will fetch?"

"You have no right to take those, they belong to my sister!" Cried Gérard.

"A pregnant lady is not going to be fitting into that bodice," said a voice from inside the kitchen. Lisette wondered if they were all inside the kitchen and she could risk escaping down the stairs. She cracked open her door and peeked down the stairway but a man now stood by the front door. She closed her door and considered her options.

"We are done looking down here, search the upper floors," said a voice.

"There is a cellar," said Gérard, "over here," and the voices died as one or more men filed down into the small root cellar to search for her. Lisette stood looking down at the small yard behind the house and considered the drop from the window. It was higher than her leap from the tree that day outside of Boulogne-sur-Mer. She had not been injured that day though she recalled how her one knee had twinged afterwards. Lisette did not wish to risk a leap from the window but might be forced to do so.

A small sound came from behind and she thought it might be the man at the foot of the stairs and then her door opened and Gérard was there. She had turned with a fright to see who it was and her heart had leaped with joy instead when she saw it was her friend and not an enemy.

"Lisette you must leave; these men are here to take you away," he said and came up to her then. "Serge has sold you out. They say there is a reward for you; five hundred English pounds if you are returned to your father." He sounded sad and disappointed.

She stood in shock, five hundred pounds! That had to be two or three years pay to a working man, even more—such a temptation to a man like Serge was not to be passed over, though perhaps he would have to share it with others.

"The door is blocked; you should go out the window," said Gérard.

"It is too high," she said looking at him.

"I will lower you down," and he moved to the open window, "come quickly Lisette." And he held his hands out to her as though he would take her in his arms to kiss her, just as he had meant to do when they returned from their walk. She came to him and he took her around the waist and lifted her to sit on the sill. Despite his shorter height he was strong; he leaned to place a kiss on her temple and then took her arms. "Hold tightly, my darling," he braced himself and scooted her body off of the sill controlling it as he lowered her down, eventually kneeling as his chest hit the sill and she was dangling in his arms. "Let go," he whispered. The jump was a simple one and she landed well.

"My bags," she called up. He threw them down to her.

"I will meet you at the Château, on the south side where there is a wall. Take the road out of town to the west and meet me there, goodbye darling," he called and shut the window. A small wooden wall fenced their yard from the street on the one end and she worked one board loose next to a gap and crawled between, catching and tearing her skirt as she went through, but she made it and headed west. She could see the Dieppe Château up on its small hill and headed towards it, then moved south when she ran out of road. There was no one to challenge her or ask her her business. A wall, crumbling and old, seemed to encircle the base of the hill and she wondered that it had not been torn down or repaired but she followed it along until she thought she was reasonably on the south side of the Château and then stopped to wait for Gérard.

He was a while in coming but she supposed he could not leave the house while men searched it. It gave her time to reflect. Lisette had, before Gérard had arrived in Dieppe, been considering moving on and seeking further adventure and now it seemed her hand would be forced. She had learned many lessons in her time in Dieppe: how to cook and do laundry, the basics of running a household and, now, most importantly: to not use her real name. Her father had not pursued Lydie when she had fled to France so she pondered why he must be pursuing Lisette on French soil. Perhaps it was because she had not fled with a man at her side. He was still interested in seeking that alliance with Cousin Collins and had some story he would craft to neighbors and society in general about her two or three or was it four weeks absence now, from Longbourn?

Five hundred pounds was a great deal of money and would entice many men to seek her out. It might even make decent men act with illicit intent. She would need to be careful. She could, perhaps, marry and put an end to this game with her father but she thought of what her grand-mère had said to her and what she had done for Lisette. She was to only marry for the deepest love and grand-mère had given her the family emeralds which still lay sewn into her corset to ensure her freedom from her father's arranged marriage. No, she would not marry simply to avoid her father's desires.

"Lisette!" Called Gérard as he came towards her. He then stood with a little hesitation looking at her. "The men have gone, no doubt back to Serge to complain that you are not at home and to ask about your location." He looked again at her as though he was trying to see through her. She thought of their first day as she had been in a state of undress; she felt again like she was undressed as he stared at her.

"You said there is a reward for me? Five hundred pounds?" She asked.

"Why would someone offer five hundred English pounds for you, Lisette?" He asked with a quizzical look and with concern.

"Because my father is rich and wants me back. I fled my home, as I said, but I did not say that he was wealthy and wished me to marry his heir," she explained. "I had no idea he would think to send men to haul me back to England. I need to leave, Gérard."

"I thought you were poor and unloved and had fallen on hard times," he said with a sad face. She knew then that he loved her; perhaps he had thought to offer marriage to her.

"Can you do one thing for me before I leave?" She asked.

"Leave? Where are you to go?" He seemed surprised that she was considering leaving in the mid-afternoon, to consider leaving Dieppe, to consider leaving him.

"I have to flee; I cannot return to my father." She smiled softly at him. "Can you sell a piece of jewelry for me so I have a little more coin for my voyage?"

"Jewelry. Yes, I can help," he said. "Get it out of your bags and I will be as quick as I can."

She blushed then and looked at him and he stared at her inaction. "Can you turn around?" She asked. He looked even more perplexed but then did as she asked. She unlaced her bodice and unhooked part of her corset to find the pearl necklace that lay in a side seam and ripped it from where she had sewn it and then did up her hooks and laces. She had taken to wearing her corset loose, with no maid to dress her and tighten its laces and with all of its treasures therein.

"Gérard," and he turned with an amused smile as he had figured out exactly where she had kept the necklace and he grinned as he looked down with an eagerness at her neckline.

"That is an interesting place to keep your treasures," and he leaned over to press a kiss to her temple and then left her. She felt no qualms about his walking off with her necklace as she knew he would return and return with the full sale price. Lisette used the time to search through her saddlebags and to sort through her items. She had no foodstuffs and was sorry she had not asked him to purchase her anything to eat but she would need to make do.

There would be no dining at a café with Gérard that evening; no walking through the streets holding his hand. They would part ways and she would never seem him again. He was to have returned to his regiment in a few days as his leave was ending and he had to allow for travel time. There would be no romance. She was going to flee to Le Havre and perhaps see Monsieur Dujardin again; could she ask him for a job?

He brought bread and cheese with him, claiming he was hungry and shared it with her. She was grateful to sit next to him and share one last meal as they sat on a small patch of packed grass and used her skirt as a tablecloth.

"You are really to go?" He asked looking intently at her face.

"Yes," she said as she handed him the last of the bread and then swept the crumbs from her skirt.

"I think I should go with you," he said and stood up.

"You are not packed to go," she said looking up at him. "Besides you do not even know which way I am to go," and she laughed.

"I will go whichever way you go," and he held out his hand to her. She took it and he pulled her to her feet.

"Do you not need to return to your garrison at Saint-Vaast-la-Hougue?" she said, "are you not expected back soon?"

He was not an Englishman to be tongue-tied over words or to use words when actions were more appropriate; he was a Frenchman and slipped a hand around her waist and put another behind her shoulder and pulled her to him; he kissed one cheek and then the other and then he captured her lips with his own and she was thankful for the hand that slipped further behind her back to hold her steady.

Her tune came then to her mind, that unfinished melody as his lips nibbled at hers and then released them and then he trailed his kisses across her cheek and over to nibble at an earlobe and a sigh came from her then but still that tune ached in her head. His lips slid from her ears down her neck to her shoulder and it was as if the tune was at the other side of her head calling out to her to finish it, to complete it. She began to hum the melody a little but then stopped where it always trailed off.

"I love you, Lisette," he whispered to her shoulder. "Stay and marry me," he said.

"Gérard," she said, "I…I…" and she had no real notion of how to reject him yet she knew she could not stay. She leaned back a little to look at him and his classically French face with his charming air. Lisette had but to touch him gently and he kissed her lips again which was what she intended. As she reached up to touch his face that tune pounded then against her forehead and it made her bow her head and pull back from his embrace. "We have only known each other for six days, Gérard," and she took a small step back.

He seemed to know that she was struggling with not being able to reject him, at not being able to say she loved him and yet would not completely let go of him. He nuzzled at her temple and ran a hand up her back to her neck. "We are, perhaps, from far too different worlds," he ran his kisses down her cheek, "and I am due back at the garrison soon as you said." And the hand at her back dropped away, the hand at her shoulder straightened her so they stood apart, his other hand reached in his pocket and pulled out a small bag and he shook it so she knew it contained her jewelry money. He grinned then when her hand came up to take it and instead he placed it at her neckline, on top of her breasts, and pushed it down inside of her corset with one finger. She shuddered as she looked at him, shocked and thrilled with such a touch. "Keep it safe," and he leaned over to kiss her temple again.

"Goodbye, Gérard." And she looked at him. Shaking hands seemed like an inadequate gesture so she did not attempt it but she did not wish to kiss him again lest she not leave. He cupped his hand against her cheek and then brought the hand to his chest and held it there, his fingers splayed out.

"Goodbye darling," he said with a slight bow.

As she set off west towards Le Havre, Lisette considered that another lesson to keep in mind would be one concerning young men and kisses and keeping them both at bay.


	13. Chapter 13

_Why should you swear I am forsworn.  
_ _Since thine I vow'd to be?  
_ _Lady it is already morn.  
_ _And 'twas last night I swore to thee  
_ _That fond impossibility._

 _Have I not lov'd thee much and long,  
_ _A tedious twelve hours space?  
_ _I must all other beauties wrong,  
_ _And rob thee of a new embrace;  
_ _Could I still dote upon they Face._

—Lovelace

Chapter 13

Lisette walked for a couple of hours and found there were only fields along the sides of the roads she traversed. She was far less familiar with what lay between Dieppe and La Havre and was not sure if there were large enough towns or villages to provide her with any accommodations or meals for the two-day journey—that much she had recalled from her discussions with Monsieur Dujardin. It was almost summer and the days were long and the sunshine lingered but still no village beckoned as the sun began to set so when she spied a wagon piled with hay off on a side-road she decided to use it as her bed for the night. This was proving to be quite an adventure already.

She changed from her skirt and bodice into her boy's clothes, the feel of them rough and confining after wearing skirts again but she was able to use the skirt as a sort of blanket and settled in for a mostly sleepless night as she was bothered by the openness of the sky above her and the odd noises around her; she was worried about animals coming upon her in the wagon and imagined rats and mice lurking at a distance in waiting. She also thought of Gérard and their week together and those kisses at the end and how much her heart had been pounding and her skin had been electrified with the kisses and his touch and yet she was not in love with him. She thought of his last gesture, his hand on his heart, and she thought of John Lucas, and wondered if her adventure meant she was to be leaving men with broken hearts in every city as she moved on in search of adventure. Lisette did not think she was the sort of young woman to break a man's heart, to be the coquette, and wondered what would happen in the next city. She would need to be more on her guard.

* * *

The two day walk to Le Havre was uneventful though her legs were sore from the march there. Le Havre was the largest port town that she had ever seen. It was bigger than Calais which dealt mostly with shuffling people from Dover across to its shores. Le Havre dealt in a multitude of goods that were coming in to France. All sorts of wonders came from all the far points of the world, the New World, and New France and she spent half a day just wandering around looking at the port and marveling at all of the ships that were docked there and looking at all the things that were being unloaded from them. Items that were being accounted for by quartermasters and being loaded into wagons or put into warehouses or being taken, right there, by merchants to sell.

She thought it was wonderful and exciting and she had not really considered all of the different items that were to be had and to be purchased. There were probably things that came to France that were not available in England but she could understand people who did nothing but sit at their leisure in the same lazy fashion as she and watch and marvel at the unloading of items and think about where the goods came from. She liked her tea, she had known that, but she had not truly considered where it came from, but as she watched it being unloaded she thought about its path to that port from around the world and remembered her map lessons with her Uncle Philips and so considered how it had been grown, perhaps in Ceylon, and come half-way across the world to a port, brought to a merchant and then to Longbourn to be steeped in hot water to be enjoyed by her at table.

She thought of silks from China and all the pretty dresses she had liked to wear and how she had loved to spin in full skirts and hear them rustle as she twirled. She thought of the pretty laces that came from different areas and of the different cities and countries that each had their own special fabrics or laces and how they all came to France or to England to be made into dresses. Cashmere wool from India, cottons from India or the Americas or laces from Venice or Flanders and all to be fashioned into clothing to adorn a lady.

She thought of the New World and the possibilities of gold and silver there though it was not as though there were huge chests of previous metals being unloaded at the port as she watched, but there seemed the _possibility_ of it as she leaned against a warehouse and considered the gold and silver to be found in the New World as was talked about among the men at the port. She contemplated then crossing the ocean to see this New World that men spoke of going to and of seeking their fortunes in those lands. For she heard then about the taxes that were imposed in France, the government taxes, and the church taxes and all of the fees or the price restrictions, so that little money was to be made here in France but there were fortunes—so many men claimed—to be made in the New World, one need only set foot there on the shores of New France and one could practically pluck gold up off of the streets. It seemed, however, in her lessons with her Uncle Philips that there was a wealth of silver in the New World but not so much gold.

Lisette spent some time finding out all the different places that ships sailed to and from Le Havre port and there truly were a lot to choose from, so many destinations to consider. She also needed to think what disguise and what name she would use when she did set sail. For she knew she wished to continue on, as exciting as Le Havre was, it was not the final destination for her, it was to be the beginning point of an adventure and she had to choose where it would lead her.

She went around and did not so much ask as much as she paid careful attention, dressed in her boy's clothes, and found out all of the different places to sail to in the New World: Savannah, Nassau, Santo Domingo, Havana, Kingston, New Orleans, Quebec up in the North—some French possessions, some Spanish, some British—or she could simply board a ship and continue south and go see other ports in France or go to Portugal or Spain or continue on into the Mediterranean.

It was as she was thinking of Italy and contemplating that as a destination—and that she did not know much about the Italians—that she had thought of one of the lessons she had learned when she had been in Dieppe: not to use her real name, Lisette Bennet, in doing so she had been found out by her father so quickly. She needed to discard her old name. Lisette instantly thought of Babette and she tried that out for a while in her head and tried to consider a story that she could wrap around herself but was not able to do that. It was still too close to her heart. It had been her pet name and she felt it would make her far too melancholy to have anyone besides her mother or her grand-mère call her that. It would make her homesick to be so addressed and she would not do that, so she considered other possibilities. She thought of those ships that went down the coast of France, past Portugal and Spain, and on to Italy and she thought about portraying herself as an Italian lady: Elisabetta.

Elisabetta Trento, an Italian lady, returning home from a visit to France.

Lisette would find a ship that was heading along the European coast, and sail down the French coast and then to the Portuguese coast and weave a tale of returning home and she would simply see what adventure there was to be had as she did it. There was the issue that a lady does not travel alone and she had to solve that: a lady with no maid, no companion, no gentlemen to escort her, no luggage, nothing with her. She thought about all of this as she walked around in her boy clothes and watched the constant loading and unloading of goods as they flowed into the port of Le Havre.

The more she thought about it the more she liked being an Italian lady, it covered up her English roots and it covered up her unusual French accent for people would often comment on it and ask about what region she came from with a, "your French is very good where are you from?" It had always been obvious that she was not local. To be speaking in French, almost flawless, but being from Italy seemed a good solution.

She considered that she might cover up the idea of arriving at the boat with no luggage and no companions if she arrived at the sailing time and made a fuss that both were due and they sailed without them and gave over missing them once the ship sailed; it seemed to her a good plan. If she was, however, to be a lady who was expecting her luggage she would need a different sort of dress. Having known before about second-hand clothing from Sylvie she sought the same in Le Havre and was able to purchase two dresses that she thought would convey her new disguise of 'Elisabetta Trento the Italian lady' sailing for home.

It was a privateer's ship from what she understood, that the captain owned it, had a crew, and had papers given to him by the French government—and perhaps by other governments—about sailing the seas and permissions to land at ports, to sail up and down the French, Portuguese and Spanish coasts and even over into the New World. She was not sure what his final destination was though—she planned to stop in Lisbon and would disembark there and look around that city seeking adventure and then find another ship. The privateer captain took passengers and he took cargo and that was how he made his money: in hauling goods and people on his ship.

* * *

Lisette found Monsieur Dujardin's warehouse and the little office attached to it off to the side one day and watched it from a small side alley across the way as he directed items to be loaded into his warehouse. She recalled his company and how glad she had been of his companionship and she was glad that fate had sent him to her on the road when she had been up that tree.

She was almost ready to sail but she was worried about the family emeralds. As much as her grand-mère had pressed them on her she did not want to sell the family heirlooms; Lisette was worried, in a moment of weakness, she would be tempted. She thought she might be able to entrust them to Monsieur Dujardin and have him keep them for her; if she was truly somehow in a bind he could be appealed to and somehow send them to her or sell them for her and send her the money. He could help her out in this case.

He was standing out in front when she approached. "Sir, Monsieur Dujardin," she called.

"Louis!" He knew the sound of her voice and had turned with surprise and yet some delight. She had bowed to him and stood, not with her cap in hand, in deference, as her cap was needed to hide her hair, but she let her head hang.

"Monsieur, my aunt has entered a convent and was not at home. There were cousins but no work," she began.

"I am sorry, Louis." He paused to look at the dejected young man in front of him. "Come into my office."

"Thank you, Sir. I am to leave soon and I have a favor to ask of you," she said as they entered his small office, barely more than a desk and a chair with open nooks for papers above.

"Leave? I had guessed you had come for work," said the merchant his eyes twinkling and he sat on his chair leaving Louis, his young friend, to stand.

"I had considered that," said Lisette as she stared at the edge of his desk, "but I have a berth on a ship which is to sail with the tide this evening."

"That may be a difficult bargain you have taken on," but he did not try to persuade his friend Louis to stay. "Now what is this favor you need then, if it is not an apprenticeship, eh?"

She took in a deep breath and let it out before looking up. "You know that I have come on hard times, and my family was once in better circumstances. My mother had one piece of jewelry," she stopped there.

"You wish me to sell it for you?" He prompted trying to read her face.

"Could you be so kind as to hold on to it so I do not sell it, Sir?" And she did catch his eye then. He was surprised by the request; that Louis Sabot was not in want of easy money but wanted, instead, to hold onto the last piece of his home.

"Yes, Louis, I will hold onto your mother's jewelry," he answered kindly.

"Thank you, Sir." She bowed. "I hope I do not ever need to ask you to sell it for me, but I appreciate your help." She reached into her pocket and deposited the emerald necklace onto his desk.

He was surprised by the quality, though it was old and of French design, and she was happy it did not proclaim to him her rich English background.

"I will keep it for you, in my safe, until you return, young Louis," said Monsieur Dujardin.

"It may be a long time, Sir," and they shook hands then again and he commented then that those hands had come to know work.

* * *

A/N: my opening song is fluff and not meant, for once, to reflect on the story; it was lovely and snarky and I loved it so put it here since I had no other contemporary piece that spoke of what was happening in this chapter. Do not assume I am referring to Gérard.


	14. Chapter 14

_All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,  
_ _The streamers waving in the wind,  
_ _When black-ey'd Susan came on board,  
_ ' _Oh! Where shall I my true love find?  
_ ' _Tell me, ye jovial sailor, tell me true,  
_ ' _If my sweet William sails among the crew!_

 _William, then high upon the yard,  
Rock'd with the billows to and fro,  
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,  
He sigh'd and cast his eyes below;  
The cord slides quickly through his glowing hands,  
And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands._

 _So the sweet lark high pois'd in air,  
Shuts close his pinions to his breast,  
(If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,)  
And drops at once into her nest.  
The noblest captain in the British fleet,  
Might envy William's lips those kisses sweet._

* * *

Chapter 14

She was dressed as a lady again and arrived with about fifteen minutes to spare where Le Cerf Blanc lay docked and watched as there was that flurry of activity of last minute preparations. There was a great amount of activity at the dock and she constructed to time her entrance at the best possible moment. She still had her rough saddlebags and had not wished to purchase any new luggage to replace them—because she needed to keep her coin—and hoped she need not explain them.

When there was less than ten minutes wanting Lisette strolled up to the end of the gangplank and looked at its narrow width and at the figure at the top. There was no handrail and she wondered that there was no one to challenge entry to anyone wishing to be on board though perhaps you entered at the peril of simply falling off of the gangplank and into the waters below. The man at the top did speak to her after she had navigated her way to its end in her skirts and with her saddlebags.

"Mademoiselle what do you think you are doing?" He cried.

"I am boarding this ship," she answered as she reached out to steady herself at the railing.

"And why would you be doing that?" He said. He was dressed like a gentleman and not like any of the crew and she did not know what function he served on the ship. He was tall, taller than any other Frenchman she had seen with dark hair and eyes. His scowl—aimed at her—she thought, rendered his handsome features less attractive.

"I have booked passage on this ship, passage to Lisbon, and I am attempting to board as we are soon to set sail, are we not?" She replied and stepped onto the deck.

"You? You have booked passage?" He cried with a surprised expression, both eyebrows raised.

"Yes," she answered.

"Your name?" He demanded.

She started to say Lisette but it came out as "Lis…betta," as she stood her ground staring at him towering over her in his indignation.

He blinked and then his eyebrows contracted and his brow furled and he looked at her again. "Pardon?"

"Elisabetta, Elisabetta Trento," she said.

He blinked again and then said, "I have an E. Trento but I assumed it was a Monsieur Trento that was sailing with me." He did not consult any sort of list but seemed to have the list of passengers memorized.

"No, it is I. My maid and my footman will be along soon with my luggage. Be sure not to sail until they appear!" She called and began to walk away.

He looked angry, his brows still furrowed, "Do not set sail until they have appeared!" He shouted. "Madam! Do you know who I am?"

"You are the steward to show me to my room?" She asked turning back quickly and then away again. She walked on, walked away from him and that scowl. She spied a crew member who seemed to be dressed as she imaged a sailor to look and considered asking him for assistance. Then another man approached her and said he was a lieutenant on the ship.

"May I help you? May I escort you somewhere?" He looked equally as alarmed when she asked to be escorted to her stateroom, and he explained that in general they only accommodated women when they were wives and sailing with their husbands. Lisette raised her voice then and insisted that she had purchased passage and was not leaving. She would not be thrown out, and please could he assure her that when her luggage and her maid and her companion showed up could he show them in and then she flashed him a smile. He seemed to bend under that smile and he walked up towards the back of the ship and she followed him.

The room was miniscule, tucked under the stairs. It was smaller even than the room in Dieppe, with the bed built in and then a small area next to it. There was already a trunk tucked into a corner. Lisette wondered if it was someone else's accommodations, perhaps one of the officers.

"And exactly how are my maid and companion to fit in here with me?" She asked the man who had opened the door for her.

"We did not receive directions for any servants, ma'am," he bowed. "You shall all need to fit in here."

"You cannot expect me to do that," she cried though she thought it odd that she was arguing about fictitious companions.

"I shall speak to le capitaine and see what I can do," and he fled.

She placed her saddlebags on the bed and considered what she should do; if she should continue with the farce and make a scene at the gangplank about her maid and the luggage—or was that a footman or a companion?—or if her point had been made and they accepted her story and she could then, once the ship had launched, continue with her adventure making one last little scene bemoaning their loss. Lisette sat then and waited until she could feel the ship swaying beneath her before appearing again lest they did decide to throw her off of the ship.

Once assured that they were underway she left her cabin and went to watch as the ship moved away from Le Havre. Her heart beat quickly at the thought of setting out and she was lost in watching the small waves lap at the side of the ship and forgot she had come out of her cabin to make a scene about her lost luggage.

"Madame…Mademoiselle?" Asked a voice at her elbow. It was the lieutenant who had shown her to her room. She turned with shining eyes, alight with her renewed sense of adventure and excitement to look at him and he seemed taken aback and forgot what it was he came to speak to her about.

"Trento, Mademoiselle Elisabetta Trento," she said.

"Lieutenant St. Denis," and he bowed.

"Has my luggage arrived? And where is my maid?" She asked and he took a step away from the rail then.

"There is no one who came for you, Mademoiselle."

"No one? Why did they not hold the ship? I told that steward to do so," she exclaimed, rather enjoying playing the role of haughty mistress.

"That was Monsieur Le Capitaine, Mademoiselle," he explained and held out his hands as if to placate her and to temper her rising voice.

"Le Capitaine! How odd!" She considered that he wore no insignia or anything else to distinguish him where the rest of the crew all seemed to wear some sort of uniform, or pieces of a uniform, to distinguish them even though this was a privateer's ship and not a French naval ship.

"Capitaine D'Arcy, Mademoiselle, he is considering your accommodations, and where exactly to house you Mademoiselle," he said still keeping a distance from her.

"I should hope that there are better accommodations to be had, that room is too small—though if my maid and my baggage have not made it in time I do not, perhaps, need the extra room." She settled the matter for them.

"The room you have is an officer's, Mademoiselle, the ones we normally allot to passengers are on the berth deck but le capitaine fears that it is too near the crew," he explained.

"So what is the issue?" She asked.

"Your room is still near the other officer's quarters," he said.

"On such a small ship I imagine all the accommodations are near each other, no?" She said.

"Yes, Mademoiselle, all except Captain D'Arcy's," he continued.

"Ah! But he is too proud to offer me his!" She cried.

"No, Mademoiselle. He is simply concerned for your safety." There seemed to be a lot in that statement and she nodded to him.

She stood and watched as the ship sailed for a while and was left to her own thoughts and devices after her outburst. But then her stomach started to turn over and she recalled that crossing from Dover over to Calais. The ship then had been much smaller and she had felt the rockiness of it far sooner. She thought about how sick she had been on that choppy crossing that morning coming into Calais and how she had been ill a number of times so she walked away from the railing and back to her room, underneath the stairs, which was underneath some other deck where she could see the ship's wheel and she wondered what lay up there but then she lay down on the bed attempting to settle her stomach.

* * *

Lisette lay on that narrow bed and supposed that after sailing for a few hours—and she hoped it would not be days—that she would eventually not feel so ill because that would make for poor adventuring if she was constantly ill on a ship. She would need to plan on being an adventurer on land and not on the sea if she was constantly seasick. She wondered what there was to drink.

She thought then that things to drink had to be carried on board and were limited by the space available. Water that was so simple to be had, it surrounded them though it could not be drunk, that salted water of the sea, but fresh water had to be stored in barrels somewhere below. There was not to be much water for washing. After those long days of walking between Longbourn and arriving in Dieppe, it had been a week before she had washed her hair that had not been a part of an adventure she had imagined. It might be easier if she cut her hair shorter, not short like a boy's, but shorter, cut the length off of it so she did not worry so much about when she would next be able to wash it. She rolled over in bed to settle her stomach which still roiled inside of her.

"Demoiselle," said a voice at her door, interrupting her thoughts, and she smiled at the quaint honorific by whoever was there, "the captain requests your presence for dinner." Just the thought of eating made her think she would be sick right there in her bunk and she paused.

"I respectfully decline the captain's invitation," she called out.

There was some shuffling of feet on the other side of the door, "but Demoiselle…," and he sounded anxious and she thought perhaps that the captain was of the sort not ever to be denied what he asked, that his orders were always to be obeyed. She did not care. She thought of him being affronted when she had showed up on board and he had not realized that a woman had booked passage. She did not hear the man or boy outside her door leave but she did not hear the voice again and finally after many minutes she heard feet walking away.

Later Lisette woke and heard voices in the small space outside her door, it was not really a hallway just a tiny hall—a tiny space—which opened to the officer's accommodations, four doors, in the aft of the ship. It was an argument between Lieutenant St. Denis and, she suspected, the captain, about ensuring that she keep to her cabin and that the crew were not be trusted around her. She began to form the idea that _she_ was not to be trusted; he thought she was suspicious.

"How is it possible that there is a woman aboard my ship?" He cried.

"You have had women aboard your ship before," said Lieutenant St. Denis.

"Women, those were wives, this is a woman."

"She seems a decent sort of lady. She is very pretty too," remarked his right-hand man.

"She is not pretty," scoffed the captain and their voices faded.

She was offended then; her vanity had been stroked by John Lucas' friendship and his gallant offer to run off with her to Gretna Green, and Gérard Nezat's attentions and his poor broken heart, but Captain D'Arcy did not think her pretty. She could, however, hear in Monsieur St. Denis' voice just how very much he thought she was attractive.

"A woman on board, I cannot believe I have a woman on board! It shall have to be you and Carbonneau and Cartier who look over her and make sure she stays away from the crew," came the captain's voice through the thin wood walls.

"Yes, captain," answered his lieutenant.

* * *

She eventually found her sea legs and did her best to avoid Captain D'Arcy but once she emerged from her cabin she kept running into him, there was nowhere to hide, no corner of the ship to hide away from anyone. Lisette had never considered that ships were so small. She could be in her cabin or step up to brave the wind on the forecastle or stay down on the main deck which was used for a number of different purposes and always had crewmen on it; there had to be a hundred sailors on board.

There was also the issue of where she should eat as the officer's mess was below deck, on the berth deck, but only to be accessed by passing through the crew's mess. That, apparently, was not to be borne by the captain so she was to eat in her room but the fuss that this exception to the way the ship was run irritated Captain D'Arcy. That scowl on his handsome face that was turned to her whenever she ran into him—which was often on that small ship—let her know what he thought of the changes she brought to his ship's routine. He resented her presence on board and was not going to come to accept that she had legitimately booked passage and he would truly have to transport her to Lisbon.

The second afternoon they began to pass around the Contentin Peninsula and Lisette knew that Saint-Vaast-la-Hougne lay on it and she stood and watched for it and thought of Gérard stationed there. She was not sorry for rejecting his marriage proposal but she had enjoyed his attentions and could still feel sorry for him and hoped he would get over his broken heart.

Monsieur St. Denis and Monsieur Cartier, both lieutenants, seemed happy to dance attendance on her and she wondered if she was taking them away from other duties. There was a third gentleman sailor, Monsieur Carbonneau, who took the captain's view as to her presence on board and viewed her with distaste though he too had been charged with her care. If bringing her a meal fell to his lot she always felt as if the food tasted bland than when St. Denis or Cartier brought the meal to her room.

At first the other members of the crew avoided her or spoke simply to her, with few words, as though they had been scolded sharply as to how to treat her. But one day on deck she heard singing as she stood at the rail, holding on with one hand, and she looked and could see three men as they sat at their chores. They had the dark, almost black, tresses of Frenchmen but as she listened they were not singing in French. She observed them some more and could tell, though she really knew little Italian—and though she was pretending to be an Italian lady—that it was not Italian either. She could not recognize the language. There was something about it that reminded her of the Gaelic languages that were to be found on her native island, and she thought of Wales then, and she wondered what language it was so she went over to speak to them. They were wary of her approach and she suspected they had been warned quite a number of times to stay away from her.

"Bonjour," she said. They stopped singing and simply nodded to her. She saw that all of them had bright blue eyes and not the dark eyes that she saw amongst most Frenchmen. "That is a beautiful song that you were singing. I should very much like to hear it; will you sing it again?" They looked at each other and then turned back to her with a shake of the head. "Perhaps I might trade you a song? I know one that is quite similar."

She had learned a few songs in Welsh and was not sure of the meanings of all of words in them but it had been a part of her defiance against her father—to have learned a handful of Welsh songs—so she sang one, sang what she could remember of it.

 _Turn, lovely Gwen, be good and kind,  
_ _And listen to thy lover's prayer.  
_ _Full well I know, there's none so blind,  
_ _But must adore my charming fair.  
_ _Despise me not for being poor,  
_ _I am not very rich 'tis true;  
_ _But if thou canst my lost endure,  
_ _I shall be rich enough in you._

When she finished she found that there were more than three pairs of eyes looking at her. There were other crew members who had stopped what they were doing to listen to her sing.

"I would appreciate it if you did not disrupt my ship," said a voice and she turned to look at Captain D'Arcy.

"I did not realize that I was disrupting your ship. It was just one song and see, they have all returned to work and they work with renewed energy, Captain," and the men had returned with a certain fervor to their work, some even with smiles.

"I thought I had said you were not to speak to any of the crew," he said looking at her and not out at his sailors.

"I do not believe you told me that directly, Sir," she replied looking at his face but not perceiving any emotion on it.

"It is best if you do not speak to the crew, Mademoiselle Trento, I am telling you now," he said and his face did become severe, the scowl appearing.

"I fear I am taking up too much of your lieutenants' time, Captain D'Arcy, and these crewmen here have sung such a beautiful song I should love to learn to sing it," she said.

"If you are in need of company you may come seek me out but do not bother my crew." He turned on his heels and walked away.

Once he was gone she asked her blue-eyed friends about their song and though they looked alarmed, they still sang it for her again. They were from Brittany—the far west country of France and it was sung in their native Breton language. She thanked them again but left lest she be getting them into trouble.

* * *

He was stern, Captain D'Arcy, stubborn and not talkative at all, whereas his officers and men readily talked to her and despite his injunction that she only speak to him and his officers she soon found comradery with most of the crew members on board. The one man she did not speak to was the captain who did not have much to say to her. He had said that if she needed to speak to someone she should come to him and yet it was not really an invitation at all, it seemed more like an injunction to never consider doing it. She had not felt an inclination to follow through on the invitation.

She found great enjoyment in singing though the salt air could be harsh on her throat and the crew loved to hear her sing. She could rarely be above decks without one or other of them asking, really begging, for her to sing and so she would oblige them and was happy to sing the songs she had learned in French; she did not wish to admit to knowing too much English so would not sing in her native tongue. While some of them said they would be willing to teach her French songs she did not know what sorts of songs French _sailors_ knew having heard the sort of songs French _soldiers_ learned.


	15. Chapter 15

_A courting I went to my love,  
_ _Who is sweeter than roses in May;  
_ _And when I came to her, by Jove,  
_ _The devil a word could I say.  
_ _I walk'd with her into the garden,  
_ _There fully intending to woo her;  
_ _But may I be ne'er worth a farthing,  
_ _If of love I said any thing to her._

* * *

Chapter 15

Captain D'Arcy did not know what to make of his lone female passenger as the days went by. She only had the two dresses and he noted that she switched between them and there had been that fracas about her luggage not showing up but there was something about it that he found suspicious. Because she did not have a maid to fix her hair she had gone to styling it simply and she made do with her limited wardrobe yet still she carried herself like a well-born lady.

He could not help but notice that his tightly run ship of men was being slowly charmed by this young woman. At first it was his officers, and he had given express orders that it was _only_ his officers to attend her, his three lieutenants to deal with her in all capacities. He had hoped to have her keep to her stateroom but he found she was not the type to be kept under lock and key and she was so often found on the deck or up on the forecastle—out and available to all eyes—and he could not help but see that his officers were hovering about her. Then he noticed that his junior officers, the anticipants, were equally under her spell, almost as though they were in love since they were both youths of sixteen and seventeen, and seemed to follow her as dogs at heel. He saw the way that she charmed his crew; there were some rough men among them and yet there was a softening on their faces and they would stand at attention when she walked by; there would pay her little funny considerations, think of ways to give her gifts for instance: one had carved her a comb out of wood. He thought it was all due to her singing.

For after that day when he had come upon her singing—and with a voice like no other he had ever heard, and singing in some Gaelic language—he had been equally as enchanted though he would not admit that to anyone. Her voice had carried over the decks of Le Cerf Blanc and up to his quarters and he had come out to see his entire crew entranced as she serenaded them. He felt like there was something inside of him that had melted as he listened to her sing. He had barked at his crew and scolded her and told her never to sing again as a response. And yet he was bewitched with that beautiful face as it had turned to look at him with those lovely dark eyes and he could hear that voice inside of his head, ringing there, and in his chest with that majestic melodic voice.

* * *

Lisette had bemoaned the fact, made a preposterous fuss, about not having her needlework so she could not keep to her room as was required by le capitaine and had nothing to do in the evenings or when the wind came up or when she was wanting to sit with company. Somehow it came about that St. Denis and Cartier and the rather sullen Carbonneau offered to sit and play cards with her in the evenings.

They had not quite determined which room was the best place to do it. Originally they holed up in St. Denis' quarters, who was sharing with Carbonneau—for it turned out that Lisette had Carbonneau's quarters now—and they had a merry time playing cards that evening. But Captain D'Arcy had discovered their intentions and declared it would not do with a female passenger and so the captain decided that if they were to continue they should play cards in the captain's quarters as though somehow his presence ensured his officer's behavior was above board when ensconced in a room with a single female passenger.

Lisette had yet to be in the captain's quarters and then could understand that next evening why they _were_ the captain's quarters. The room had to have been five times the size of her own accommodations which were barely larger than the bed in it. He had windows all along the back, not a single tiny port window, but an expanse of glass that looked out of the back of the entire width of the ship. He had plenty of room to move about, a table and a map table, and chairs and a bed that was actually large enough to fit two people and she had stared at that and wondered why a captain would need such a large bed before they had sat down to play at cards. But the captain did not join them; he merely sat at his map table far off to one side with his charts and books and tools and worked while they played.

She soon learned the family histories of her three companions at the table in the captain's quarters. Monsieur Carbonneau was the only son in a family with many sisters; St. Denis was the youngest one of many brothers and had a happy life. Cartier was a happy and indulged child and had been spoiled as the only one surviving infancy. All of them had grown up in port towns, had grown up near water and knew the smell of the sea and felt its enticing aroma and its call and knew it was to be their destination at a very young age.

One evening Carbonneau, having lost a number of hands in a row, glared at Lisette for having won an equal number of hands, and took a sip of his ale and pushed back in his chair.

"Shall we not do something besides play cards every evening?" He cried looking at his fellow officers and somehow attempting to exclude Lisette or blame her for his losses.

"What other amusements are to be found on board a ship? Books?" She asked looking around at the men at the table.

"I suppose you despise reading," Carbonneau sneered.

Captain D'Arcy looked up from his map table then at the four of them. "I do have a few books if you wish to peruse one of them." All the eyes turned to look at him for he had not often joined in their conversations and never played a hand of cards.

"Map books or ones on navigation, I suppose?" Cried Lisette with a smile dancing on her lips and up across her dark eyes as she looked at him.

"No," he answered, "Voltaire, Lamarck, and Psalmanazar. I even have some in English for my mother was English."

"Really!" She cried and she looked at him to see if there was anything about him that spoke to her of his English half. He was, she considered, more reserved than his lieutenants. Was that because he was half English or because he was the captain and needed to command men to do his bidding?

"And do you speak it?" She said to him in English though she attempted to stumble on the words as though she was a novice at it. He looked at her with curious eyes.

"I do," he answered her in her native tongue.

"Very good spoken," she nodded as she made a deliberate stumble over the grammar. Lisette thought that he almost smiled back but then there were the sounds at her table of ale being poured into a glass.

"I did not know you had books to borrow," said Carbonneau as he sipped, "that should help me pass the days at sea."

Lisette looked back at the captain but he had lost the twinkle in his eyes; apparently he had not meant to share his books with everyone.

"It might, perhaps," said the captain in French once again, "be a better accomplishment for a young lady than playing cards in the evening," his lips then were set together as he looked at her.

"I did not know it was at issue," she looked at her table mates as they sipped their ale and waited for play to resume. "Alas, Monsieur Cartier, your captain suggests we find another amusement in the evening besides playing cards, and Monsieur Carbonneau has told us he is bored with the game. What did you do in the evenings before I came on board?" She was met with silence as St. Denis sipped and Cartier looked with amusement around the table. Carbonneau looked down and pushed his cards around.

"Perhaps we might sing?" She asked looking at the three men.

"Yes, we sometimes sang," said Cartier looking at her fully then with a twinkle in his eye.

"Often with me," said St. Denis who looked at Cartier and smirked.

The smile on his face died as Captain D'Arcy joined them at the table. "Most of your songs are not for a lady's ears," he said looking at his two senior lieutenants. "Perhaps we should try books."

"Do let us try song," said Lisette, "surely you know something for my ears," and she looked around the table at all of the gentlemen.

"Sing for us," said St. Denis, looking at her, "while we think of what we are to sing. Sing for us," he urged with a gleam in his eye.

"Yes please," said Cartier with the same sort of eagerness. She did not think it was due to the rather weak ale.

So she sang but only after insisting that they too would sing when she had finished. The two lieutenants sang together; the salty air took something from their voices but they were still pleasing to listen to. The aspirants knocked on the door, somehow they had heard, though they brought more ale with them, and they sang with sweeter voices while D'Arcy looked on at the gathered group in his quarters singing together with such pleasure. Even Carbonneau was persuaded to sing and his fine tenor voice surprised everyone. They often insisted that Lisette sing, teaching her the chorus of their own songs so she could join in with them and they had a delightful evening until she withdrew, happily, to her bed.

Carbonneau sat with a few dregs of ale in his glass after she had gone. "She seeks to recommend herself by flattering others, flattering all of you. Can you not see through it? See her arts and allurements?" He cried looking at the others at the table, but they seemed, even the captain, lost in listening to the whispers of her voice that still seemed to linger in the room.

* * *

The next evening they played at cards again and Captain D'Arcy was at his map table with his log book and his tools around him.

"It is as I expected," said Lisette after she had laid down a card and then looked over in D'Arcy's direction, "back at his map table and not to join us again." Cartier laid down a card and took the hand with a grin.

"You are a studier of character, Mademoiselle?" Asked St. Denis.

"Yes," she answered.

"I should not tackle the captain," warned Carbonneau, "you do not want to cross him."

"Why should it be crossing him to say I am attempting to study his character? I have been attempting to solve the mysteries of life; are they not to be discerned by studying my fellow creatures?" She looked around the table while Cartier shuffled the cards.

"Why should women wish to solve the mysteries of life?" Asked Carbonneau with a sneer on his lip.

"Should we not expand our knowledge of the world such as by travel, which is what I am doing?" She said.

"Which do you think is the greatest?" Asked Cartier as he began to deal the next hand.

"Love, the nature of love," she answered and began to look over her cards.

"That is a woman's answer," scoffed Carbonneau as he picked up his hand and then frowned, obviously not happy with his cards.

"I suppose you have never been in love, Monsieur Carbonneau?" Asked Captain D'Arcy who was suddenly at his shoulder. His officer did not answer him. "If you have not been, then you are no Frenchman and a disgrace to your country," said D'Arcy who looked down at Carbonneau and then looked across at Lisette.

"You, Captain D'Arcy, you said you are only half French, part of you is English," said Lisette as she looked at him, "do you seek love?"

"Love is to be had in France as well as in England," he evaded answering her though he did not look away.

"Yes, love is to be found everywhere, even perhaps aboard a ship." She smiled, her eyes dancing in amusement and he seemed unnerved then as though not sure of the game she was playing.

Lisette was not sure either. She was used to flirting over cards as she played at Longbourn, it had been part of her strategy but there was something about Captain D'Arcy that made her wish to break through and see how much his English mother had influenced him. She wondered whether it could be counter-balanced by the influence of his French father; his officers sat with their cards in their hands and looked at the pair.

"I will remind you, Mademoiselle Trento, that you are on board by my good graces and under my protection and I can still insist that you be put ashore at the next port. I will bid you all good night," and he dismissed them and they folded their game.

She then realized that he thought she meant his officers and not himself.

* * *

She was singing with the sailors from Brittany the next day but in a sly manner. It was not as if she was deliberately bothering them but she stood at the railing on the main deck and they were there as well working on some of those small repairs that always needed to be performed. They would sing a line in Breton and she would sing it in return, the same call and response method she had learned her saucepan songs from Sylvie in that kitchen in Dieppe.

The wind swirled her skirts around her and she had no cloak and Captain D'Arcy was at her shoulder, appearing suddenly as he always seemed to do, despite his height and its being such a small ship.

"I notice you have no cloak, Mademoiselle, and the wind is fierce this morning. Should you not like to get inside?" He asked. He no longer scowled at her and she could not recall when he last had done so, but looked down at her with concern.

"I fear my single port window makes my room dark and unappealing," she answered hugging her arms to herself.

"Let me clarify," he said and held out his arm, "come join me in my quarters and get out of the wind," and he smiled then at her. She was not sure whether she had truly seen him smile before, "besides which the wind will surely make your throat hoarse," he teased, having known she was singing in Breton.

"Thank you," and she took his arm.

His quarters were lovely in the daylight with the wide bank of windows along the back; she had never been inside them during the day and she turned around her, her skirts swirling out wide and she took in the room with new eyes.

"I am to write some letters," he said as he sat down at the table with the appropriate supplies in front of him, "do you need to write to anyone?" It was a sincere question, not one meant to ferret out information about her background. Her heart flipped over with a pang.

"No, I thank you," she answered as he continued to look at her, some of her homesickness to be read on her face, but she turned away to take in the view from the windows. "You have an excellent view from up here," she said.

"Captain's privilege, yes," he answered. She did not wish to turn lest he seek her eyes again and she continued to look out of the back of the ship and at the wake behind the boat until she heard him scratching at his paper. Lisette began to move about the room taking in all the things to be found there that she missed in the evenings when she was focused on her companions and there was only lantern light on the table before them. His map table had hinges in it and she supposed that it must open up to store the maps or tools he used. A leather-bound book lay on top and she supposed it must be his log book. Did he log only their position in the water or did he log events? Did Captain D'Arcy log that he had taken on a rather spirited and, perhaps, annoying single lady who charmed his crew and serenaded them all like a siren?

Lisette continued moving around the cabin. His bed was neatly made, that large-enough-for-two bed. He had some nautical instruments on the walls; she recognized a compass. There were weapons hanging there as well; signs that all sea voyages were not necessarily without some strife, even in these modern times, with corsairs still lurking in the waters and with governments at odds with each other and then seeming to switch sides and join up to battle former partners.

She turned to look at him and saw that he was watching her. His quill was held loosely in his hand.

"You do not like your pen? Shall I mend it for you?" Lisette asked as she came over to the table.

"No, I thank you," and he looked back down at his letter.

"Is it a business letter? What sorts of business letters do privateer captains write?" She asked.

"No, it is not a business letter," he paused, "I am writing to my brother." He did not look up but he did not continue to put words to paper.

"I did not know you had a brother," she cried. She had wormed most of the family stories from his lieutenants but realized that le capitaine had shared nothing about himself during those evenings in his private quarters as he sat, a little ways apart, alone at his map table.

"Yes," he said simply and bent to write again.

"Is he a sailor too?" She asked. He stopped and looked up at her.

"No, he is still at home," he answered and then began to work at his letter. She looked at that bent head. Lisette had considered that Captain D'Arcy had to be at least thirty to own his ship and be so established as a privateer. She was surprised that he might have a brother so young as to still be at home; she supposed D'Arcy must be the oldest child, the oldest son, and wondered again about the French and how they handled providing for their sons. Gérard had been the oldest yet he had joined the army; D'Arcy was the oldest yet he was in trade, if that was what a privateer was to be reckoned, though she did not suppose the English version of things worked outside of England or here on the high seas. She began her examination of the room again.

There was an interesting map of the West Indies that she was examining when there was a knock and the door opened and Le Fevre came in with a tray of food. The Aspirant stopped just inside the door when he spied Lisette standing in front of the map; he smiled but then schooled his face but there was something there, an expectation in his eyes as though he had made a bet and the cards had been dealt in his favor.

"Shall I bring food for Demoiselle Trento so she can join you?" Asked Le Fevre. Captain D'Arcy looked up and seemed to repeat the question to her with his eyebrow alone. She nodded and that was how it began that she shared her meals in his quarters.

* * *

The officers that evening were more inclined to sing and begged her to begin and then peppered her with their favorites though she tried to insist that some one or other of them sing at least every third song.

The mood was companionable and easy when Captain D'Arcy stood at the end of the table and asked if she could sing an Italian song. She tried not to let the surprise show on her face; she was, after all, supposed to be an Italian lady and should know a bounty of Italian songs but she did not quite know how to answer him so she did not. He seemed offended, and that scowl which she had not seen in almost a week was there and he repeated his request.

Lisette looked up to him with a card-winning smile, "I fear I did not wish to immediately reply to you, captain." She put a hand up to her chest, "I am poorly versed in songs in my own tongue and I thought you might despise me for my taste—for my preference for French songs—but I fear you shall simply have to despise me Captain D'Arcy," she tilted her head slightly but kept a hold of his eyes in what was a coquettish gesture.

"Indeed I do not dare," he said to her. She could not read anything on his face and whether or not she had fooled him or offended him.

"I do remember one or two English songs," she ventured, looking back at him fully and dropping her hand back into her lap. He peered back. "Country songs most probably, though I am not sure what all the words mean," she fibbed.

He did not speak but nodded his consent. She sang then, with hesitation at the scenario, in English. All the eyes in the room were on her, the three Lieutenants seated at the table, but especially D'Arcy's as he stood at the end and listened to her sing while she sang in her native language for the first time in months.

 _Ye fair possess'd of ev'ry charm,  
_ _To captivate the will;  
_ _Whose smiles can rage itself disarm,  
_ _Whose frowns at once can kill:  
_ _Say you will deign the verse to hear,  
_ _Where flatt'ry bears no part?  
_ _An honest verse that flows sincere,  
_ _And candid from the heart._

"I know that one," he said simply and in English.

"Do you?" She replied back in her native tongue without thinking. She had gone from thinking to be exposed by not knowing Italian songs to then thinking she had affronted him with her hesitation to sing to seeing something kindle in his eyes as he looked at her while she sang in English. She wondered then what she was doing with Captain D'Arcy? Had she not learned her lessons on kissing and men?

* * *

A/N: in about one third of the cases I have sheet music for my historical songs and I dutifully sat down at the piano and played the tunes. Some tunes were odd to my modern ears, but this English country song above had a lovely melody and is my favorite.


	16. Chapter 16

_For love's sake, kiss me once again,  
_ _I long,—and should not beg in vain.  
_ _Here's none to spy, or see;  
_ _Why do you doubt or stay?  
_ _I'll taste as lightly as the bee,  
_ _That doth but touch his flower and flies away._

 _Once more, and, faith, I will be gone.  
_ _Can he that loves ask less than one?  
_ _Nay, you may err in this,  
_ _And all your bounty wrong:  
_ _This could be called but half a kiss;  
_ _What we're but once to do, we should do long._

 _I will but mend the last, and tell  
_ _Where, how, it would be relished well;  
_ _Join lip to lip, and try.  
_ _Each suck the others breath.  
_ _And whilst our tongues perplexed lie,  
_ _Let who will think us dead, or wish our death._

— _Ben Jonson_

* * *

At La Rochelle they were to take on more passengers. A gentleman and his lady joined them for the trip to Lisbon, a Monsieur and Madame Huppe. The officers were required to double up again and suddenly Lisette was not the only woman on board.

Lisette did not see the new passengers most of their first day as they kept to their room with sea sickness but her former routine changed. There was no noon meal with the captain; no evening frivolity with her friends in the captain's quarters and no singing on board. The entire ship seemed to be waiting to see how the new passengers fit into their old routine. The entire dynamics of the ship changed. The sailors, aspirants, and lieutenants became stiff and formal in their manner, and the new passengers were the type who assumed that everyone on board was to be at their beck and call.

Once Madame Huppe emerged from her stateroom she was offended to learn that Lisette had been on the ship by herself and took Lisette under her motherly wing to protect her from those atrocious men, the sailors. Lisette was miserable. The state of Lisette's face and hands, her hair and her clothing were all commented on at length and all found wanting. The length of her time on board horrified the married lady as though she could not but assume that many improprieties took place on board without a chaperone. That Lisette had no embroidery with her was an equally great offense as though no lady should be without her work bag but she seemed just as offended to learn of Lisette's age, twenty and almost twenty-one, and still being unmarried. Madame Huppe had married at sixteen, apparently.

"What, should we have a ball here on the main deck so all of the officers fall in love with me?" Lisette had finally retorted. "Then Captain D'Arcy can marry us at sea, is that the idea?" Madam Huppe would take offense to that remark as well.

Somehow Madame Huppe managed to invade the captain's quarters and used them as a sort of sitting room for herself though they were his quarters. The second evening of their arrival Captain D'Arcy had invited Lisette to come though the other officers were not yet present. Madame Huppe had followed Lisette up the port stairs to the captain's quarters as though she too had been invited and Monsieur Huppe came along though he still felt ill, and after the stair climbing he then immediately had to lie down on the bed. The married lady had wandered around quite like Lisette had done but without much interest and with disdain at what she found, disclaiming that the room was so small.

"What do you do in the evenings?" Asked Madame Huppe finally settling down at the table with a flourish of her skirts.

"Books and music," offered Lisette.

"Music, on a ship?" Cried the lady, "how can you have music without an instrument?"

"You sing," answered Lisette.

"One cannot sing without accompaniment," cried the lady.

"I sing just fine without any," said Lisette with a bland face.

"I had no notion," said Madame Huppe with scorn as though assured that Mademoiselle Trento was bragging in front of the handsome captain who sat at his map table. The officers arrived and were surprised to find Madame Huppe there and then looked with more surprise at the sick face of Monsieur Huppe on Captain D'Arcy's bed. Madame Huppe waved them to their seats. "She was to sing for us; she claims she can sing without accompaniment." The men began to protest, but Madame Huppe silenced them with a flourish and looked at Lisette, "no, go on."

Lisette sang and the married lady looked in astonishment as every man in the room turned his eyes to Lisette and the married lady's eyes narrowed as she realized that she had a rival for the gentlemen's attentions. Monsieur Huppe sat up from his place on the bed and listened with the same rapt attention as the others. Lisette finished her song and schooled her face when she was done, having proved her point.

"Very pretty, I am sure," sniffed the lady and looked away from the group out at the dark spaces of the room.

"Perhaps, Madame, we might hear you sing?" Asked St. Denis in a gallant tone.

"Oh no, I thank you, no," she declined and continued to look off into space for a few more seconds then turned to look back at the officers. "Why have you come _here_ this evening?" She asked then of the three gentlemen.

"To play cards!" Exclaimed Cartier who held up the pack. That got her husband's attention who said he was feeling instantly better and came to take a seat at the table; Lisette stood to give him her chair. She watched their eager game.

Captain D'Arcy was at his map table with his log book and his instruments and Madame Huppe coughed a few times but could not get his or any of the other gentlemen's attentions. She was not used to not holding the attention of a room and on board a ship—full of men—had assumed she would be the center of attention. She stood up and began to walk back and forth but none of the gentleman—not her husband and especially not the handsome captain—looked up to notice her curvy figure with its expanse of exposed bosom. She called out to Lisette then.

"Mademoiselle Trento, do stand up and stretch your legs with me," and she gestured with animated arms which in turn exaggerated her bosom. Lisette reluctantly came to join the lady who latched onto her arm and hauled her to pace a few steps and then turned back and paced again. Madame Huppe noticed that le capitaine was watching them so she called out in an eager voice for him to join them.

"There is no room for three in that pathway, but the evening is a fine one. Why do we not leave the men to their cards and stroll to the forecastle?" Madame Huppe was delighted and seized his arm as soon as he came upon them, leaving Lisette no room, she would need to follow behind.

"I should stay, perhaps," began Lisette, but Captain D'Arcy reached for the door and letting go of Madame Huppe's arm waved the married lady through and then smiled down at Lisette and held out his hand to her who placed her own in his warm one and he guided her through the door. He settled the women on his arms and they walked down the starboard stairs; Madame Huppe making a fuss about their steepness and went along the main deck at a slow pace. The lady talked nonstop about her family and her friends and how wealthy all of them were as they walked. Lisette enjoyed being out on deck in the cool, night air, and she enjoyed the warmth coming from where she had her arm tucked securely under Captain D'Arcy's arm.

As they went up the stairs to the forecastle at the end of the main deck, Madame Huppe's chatter began to lessen and it stopped as they reached the top of the stairs. Lisette dropped the captain's arm to look over then at the lady and it was difficult to tell in the light but she imagined that Madame Huppe was ill. Few sailors up on the forecastle acknowledged the trio and a few minutes later Madame Huppe begged Captain D'Arcy to take her back to her room.

"I will stay," said Lisette, "it is not so late." The captain was obliged, with Madam Huppe's tight grip on his arm, to escort her to her cabin but Lisette enjoyed being outside and with the fresh cool air and the wind on her face and was still enjoying it when the captain returned.

"Demoiselle Trento," he said as he came to her with her back against the high wall of the forecastle.

"Capitaine!" She laughed as a gust of wind whipped locks of hair in her face.

"I fear Madam Huppe was ill," he said.

"Did you wish for me to attend her?" She cried pulling an errant lock from her eyes.

"No…no," he said and walked to stand on the windward side of her.

"How is it so many have invaded your quarters and you have been chased out?" She said.

"I do not mind," and he touched her arm briefly. She looked up at him and wondered what sort of singing voice he had. "Would you sing for me," he said quietly, "in English again, Demoiselle?" It was a soft, gentle request.

She looked at his handsome face, his dark eyes soft in the evening light. "Yes," she replied. And she sang another song. He watched her face the entire time. The darkness hid his normally stark features, that captain-in-command look.

"N'est il pas bon?" She asked. He said nothing for a while but looked at her as though he was attempting to take in every feature, every angle of her face.

"What do you wish for?" He asked instead of answering her question, assuring her that her singing was perfect as usual. She returned his own penetrating look with a quizzical one.

"I want to ride again," she said in a half whisper.

"I have no horses on board," he said and she could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Nor do you have the space to ride," she smiled and reached out to touch him and found her fingers electrified when they met his arm. Her heart was beating up in her throat.

"It is getting cold, we should return," he said. She would disagree; Lisette felt as though a fire raged inside of her but she realized there were sailors there with them on the forecastle and down on the deck, even up in the crow's nest; they were not alone. He held his hand out to her and they returned back along the port side of the ship, moving slowly. When they reached the stairs to return to the captain's quarters she pulled back.

"I will retire," she said and he led her to the shadowy nook, the door that led to the small hall where the officer's quarters were. Her heart was beating even louder; in that unlit corner where the door was they could not be seen by anyone but he was half English after all and he left her at the dark door with a short "good night," and a quick bow and went back up the stairs to his own quarters.

Lisette felt like a fire burned in her for a long time that night and her tune played in her head. It was as if it had been patient on board Le Cerf Blanc, waiting for further inspiration and that fire that had been stoked that evening had rekindled it redoubled its efforts to encourage her to complete it.

Part of her thought perhaps it might not be a solo tune, but was to be a duet as the tune bounded around in her mind; one more line completed. She was further into it but it was yet incomplete. Her adventures were the way to finish but it seemed she needed further inspiration.

Was Captain D'Arcy the inspiration she needed? She had not thought about the tune since being on board until this evening and now it was like a fire before her, warm and light and alive, sparks coming off of it, embers for her eyes to follow as the draft of the fire caught and carried them up in the air, aloft. The trouble with embers was they could spark out of a fire at one and prick at your skin or burn small holes in your clothes as well as provide heat and light.

* * *

There were to reach Spain that day, to leave France behind and Lisette was excited as she stood for a long time in the morning at the railing. It was not that she could tell as though there were some marker that denoted the change and they were no longer sailing near the coast but were heading south towards their first Spanish port. She stood for a while and considered this new change to her adventure as Lisbon approached. Lisette would need to consider what she would do when she reached her destination. She still planned to disembark there and let Le Cerf Blanc sail on but her ten days at sea had been so enjoyable that part of Lisette considered staying on to its next destination. She was not sure how long her coin would last though she might make enough money playing cards if she tried hard enough.

She thought she should, after such a time at sea, attempt to clean some of her clothes if she wished to disembark at San Sebastián the next day and still maintain the appearance of a well-bred lady. Lisette enlisted some help from one of the aspirants to bring her a bucket of water and tackled the rather mundane task of washing all of her clothing, all the underclothes she owned, her chemise, her nightdress, and both dresses—for she had changed to her simple bodice and skirt first purchased long ago in Dieppe.

She thought to hide in her room that day, but the captain inquired after her at mid-day and insisted she join him for their regular meal together. Lisette bemoaned while eating—delicately for her hands were red and raw again from the water and the soap—that her clothes would never dry with her single port window and yet he had such a large expanse of windows in his quarters with sunshine streaming in. The captain was quiet over his plate for a while.

"Hang them in here, but tell no one," he said continuing to look down at his plate. She did not argue but agreed and fetched them after their meal laying them about on the chairs with the windows open and the breeze to dry them in short order. She then kept to her own room and out of Madame Huppe's or anyone else's sight for the rest of the day. Apparently Captain D'Arcy was busy at his map table in his quarters.

Aspirant Le Fevre delivered a package of worn sail cloth to Lisette at the end of the day, wrapped up in string and tied with some interesting knots. She thanked him and found her dried and folded clothes inside.

* * *

She disembarked with Monsieur and Madame Huppe at San Sebastián and spent a dismal few hours with them looking over the town. Lisette would much rather have looked at the architecture. Captain D'Arcy had told her of a new Catholic church that had been erected but a mere ten years before: Basílica de Nuestra Señora del Coro but the Huppes seemed intent only on seeking what could be purchased in that port town and were intrigued that Lisette had no wish to spend any money and scoffed and scolded her for not sending packages back to the ship to be brought to her stateroom.

That evening when he asked about her day Lisette told the captain that she had not seen much of the delights of the city, that the Huppes had taken her to the shops and she had seen the inside of many merchant establishments but she had not seen many of the beauties of the city. The couple was not there to speak of their own experiences as seasickness had come over them once they had sailed.

"I am sorry for it," said Captain D'Arcy, "that is one of the beauties of traveling, to be able to see the sights that a city has to offer, its beauties, its mysteries," and he smiled as if pulling up past places he had visited and clearly with fondness.

"I am sorry too; I have enjoyed such ventures when I disembarked at the ports we have stopped at so far—though I fear you are always cross with me at having to send one of your lieutenants to be by my side—but it has been a delightful trip, Captain D'Arcy. I am thankful that you did not throw me off at Le Havre," her eyes danced in merriment as she recalled the trouble of her first day aboard Le Cerf Blanc.

"I would never have really thrown you off," he assured her standing at the end of the table as they played. He had finished his work and come to watch.

"And we have a week yet, until we reach Lisbon?" She asked and Captain D'Arcy nodded at her and she wondered what the coming week on board would be like with the Huppes' presence interrupting what had been such a pleasant routine. Lisette did not know how far the Huppes planned to travel. Perhaps she should stay, once they disembarked, and could carry on board forever.

"Monsieur Carbonneau, I believe I am of your mind, and do not have my head on my hand tonight," said Lisette, "and it is not because I have a poor hand," and she laid out her hand of cards to show that it was true.

The lieutenant looked at her with some suspicion as though he did not know what to make of her that she would willingly give up a winning hand and the small pot of coins on the table.

"Shall we sing?" Asked Cartier.

"I fear the day in the sun has baked my throat," she begged off and they looked at her as their appointed leader with trepidation then as they wondered what they would do with their evening if it was not to play cards or sing; they realized for the first time in almost two weeks that Mademoiselle Trento seemed to be begging off spending the evening with them. "I think I shall stretch my legs on deck and then retire," she said.

Lisette moved to stand and there was a figure then at her chair to draw it back and Captain D'Arcy offered her his arm. "I will see you down the stairs, the wind is rough this evening," he said.

The officers said their good-byes and she smiled at them and suggested they call the aspirants to come play at cards in her stead and the pair left.

He did not take her straight down the port-side stairs and to her cabin, but walked along the quarterdeck past the ship's wheel and the sailor there at the helm and down the starboard stairs, switching her to his other side so she was out of the wind.

Captain D'Arcy began to turn towards her room, but she stopped. "Let us stroll to the forecastle, it is less windy than I supposed." They walked the deck then, whether there were sailors on the deck was difficult to tell in the moonless night and the crew also seemed to vanish as they walked, blending into the shadows and even up on the forecastle where men should be standing guard there was no one she could spy.

They stood together without speaking; she did not wish to let go of the comfort of his arm, the warmth from being able to lean against him a little as he stood as a wind break up at the front of the ship. She hummed her tune as they stood in happy silence together. She thought of the longing, the striving that had driven her to seek adventure rather than find another solution to the problems with her father and her forced marriage. She hummed softly with her arm on D'Arcy's and that tune waiting there, yearning for more as though the captain could help her along with it.

Lisette was tired from her day of adventure in port and turned towards him and reached with her free hand to touch his chest. "I am weary and should retire," she said.

"I will say good night then," he answered and he let go of her arm. Lisette was disappointed. He did not mean to walk her back down to her accommodations there in the darkness, out of sight, near the officer's quarters. She thought perhaps he might be feeling too much like a Frenchman that evening and not enough like an Englishman, or in command like a Captain to escort her down the stairs and along the deck to her dark, secluded door. She made the way on her own.


	17. Chapter 17

_Why d'ye with such disdain refuse,  
_ _An humble lovers plea?  
_ _Since heav'n denies you pow'r to chuse,  
_ _You ought to value me.  
_ _Ungrateful mistress of a heart  
_ _Which I so freely gave,  
_ _Though weak you bow,  
_ _Though blunt your dart,  
_ _I soon resign'd your slave._

* * *

They begin to always walk out at night. The Huppes had recovered and invaded their little circle in the captain's quarters. D'Arcy and Lisette would leave their friends and walk down the starboard side of the ship, often stopping to talk, but just to each other, and then walk up to the forecastle while they kept up their quiet conversations.

He spoke of his past, his father had been a diplomat in England and met his mother there and Gauthier D'Arcy had grown up there until age twelve when his mother had died. They had moved back to France where his father had remarried and his brother, Marcel, had been born.

They would walk back down the port-side stairs to the main deck again and he would see her home to her door, though sometimes releasing her hand far short of the darkness of that shrouded door that led to the seclusion of the officer's quarters. Lisette realized that they never saw anyone, not another officer, an aspirant, a crewman on these strolls after that first night despite there being one hundred men on board—that they were all making themselves scarce every evening while Captain D'Arcy and Mademoiselle Trento strolled the decks. She knew there was at least one man up in the crow's nest so there had to be at least one man spying on them at all times, but the crew made good work at keeping to the shadows of the boat.

* * *

Madame Huppe demanded a great deal of her time as the only other woman on board and Lisette was holed up in the Huppe's cabin or required to be at her beck and call, but she was permitted certain instances of freedom. She maintained her meals with Captain D'Arcy and though Madame Huppe attempted to invite herself to them she was refused.

Lisette's time, when not with La Madame Huppe, was sweet and tender and precious at the captain's side in the evening and their quiet meals every day. She began to count down the days until they reached Lisbon with a certain dread. He spoke so much of his own past, his own story, that her own tale began to hang between them as a sort of barrier. Lisette's story was a made-up one based on half-truths so she encouraged Captain D'Arcy to speak as much as possible so she did not have to. He did not often have a chance to speak about himself to others and, perhaps, found it an appealing relief to being the stern commander all the time.

They had reached the port of A Coruña and the Huppes had disembarked to shop, but Lisette had convinced Aspirant Severin to bring her a bucket so that she might wash her hair that morning and had struggled with the washing of it because of its length. She had been late in reaching the captain's quarters for her mid-day meal. It still hung long and heavy and wet down her back as she entered and Lisette had apologized for it.

"I did not wish to miss our meal and I have only just finished combing out my hair, I hope you will forgive my appearance," she smiled as she took her chair.

"Not at all," he assured her and waited for her to sit before seating himself.

She did not begin eating but watched him as he took up his utensils in hand and ate a mouthful.

"What is it?" He asked after he had swallowed.

"Do you have a knife?" She asked.

"Do you need something cut?" He asked looking at her plate.

"Yes, my hair," she said with no humor to her expression and with a great seriousness.

"Your hair!" His shock was evident on his face as he sat up straighter to look at her and took in her damp hair hanging in folds across one cheek and pooling on a shoulder to spill over onto the top of her breasts which showed at the edge of her bodice. He looked back quickly to her face. "Why do you wish to cut your hair?"

"It is too long to wash and to wait for it to dry," she explained, "I do not wish to cut it short, but to cut off some length of it," and she pushed back from the table. "Do you have a knife?" She repeated. He stood as she did.

"Yes," he said as a reluctant party to this venture. And he went to the map table and opened a drawer beneath and removed a large knife and showed it to her though he did not hand it over.

She walked to the windows which lay near his bed and which afforded them some light and held up a length of her hair. "I believe about here," she said measuring it at about mid-way down her arm and then reached for the knife.

He looked at her from his position, knife in hand, by the map table and shook his head. "I hate to have you cut it."

"It is such a bother, Captain, especially aboard your ship and the lack of water," she argued and held out her hand again with a serious face.

He let out a breath he had not known he was holding. "Let me do it so that the ends are even." He took on the same serious look she had on her own face.

"Yes," she replied, and she turned her back to him and looked out at the view and at the wake of the ship as they headed to Lisbon and Captain D'Arcy came and carefully cut her hair lock by lock. Lisette stood still as he worked with her eyes ever on the water outside and once D'Arcy took one of the cut locks of hair and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket.

When he was done he said as much and turned to put the knife on the table. When he turned round Lisette was running her hands through her hair, the ends curling in a way they had never done before and her warm dark eyes looked at him with such gratitude and he thought himself completely undone.

* * *

On the forecastle that evening, it was completely deserted as usual and he asked her to sing a song.

"In English?" She asked.

"Yes," he said. And so she obliged him.

 _Love's a gentle gen'rous passion,  
_ _Source of all sublime delight,  
_ _When with mutual inclination  
_ _Two fond hearts in one unite,  
_ _Two fond hearts in one unite._

She could see the pleasure written on his face and in his entire body as he leaned against the wood and watched her sing. How very happy he was to simply hear her sing. When she was done she asked if she should sing another, and he nodded, so she sang in French, one of her saucepan songs.

 _I love thee, by heavens,  
I cannot say more;  
Then set not my passion a cooling;  
If thou yield'st not at once  
I must e'en give thee o'er,  
For I'm but a novice at fooling._

He stood there, about an arm's length away from her in the shelter of the high wall of the forecastle.

"Elisabetta," he began almost as though he was out of breath, "I have struggled and can no longer deny it and want you to marry me, Elisabetta," he said in a low, deep voice.

She was a little taken aback. It had been a lovely sort of game Lisette thought she was playing. One she did not want to stop but had not thought through to the conclusion of; she had been lost in enjoying each moment; every minute with Captain D'Arcy had given her such pleasure. The warm haze of the courtship between them had been thrilling and had added so much to her adventure. Lisette had enjoyed his company, was it really even a game she was playing? She looked intently at him then.

He then went on to detail why it would be difficult for them to marry which she thought did not help his cause. He was the captain of the ship; he needed to lead his crew, to always be in command. He had always thought if he was to marry he would keep his wife in port, it would be a meager existence in the captain's quarters he argued.

"You could stay at my father's villa, he has horses and you could ride," he offered.

But she was not who she represented herself to be; she had claimed to be Elisabetta Trento, an Italian lady, returning home at her leisure after a trip to France. She had spoken not of England and Longbourn and the trials she had run from but had painted herself as a carefree and spirited lady.

She put a hand to her brow, another to her cheek her finger resting on her lips. Her tune threatened her and her hand staved to ward it off, to attempt to tone it down as it whirled in her mind. That smallest finger lying against her lips ran the tip along her lower lip and Lisette wished with a distraction she had never known that he would kiss her. As if it would, his kiss, help her to make up her mind. It would make it easier too to tell him about being Lisette Bennet who no longer had sisters like he had his brother and a loving father but that she had a tyrannical father who thought of her as property and kept her under lock and key, who offered rewards for her capture and return.

He looked with concern at her posture, his eyes followed that finger as it ran along her lip, her gestures and her quiet demeanor. She was not being her usual witty, sharp self. He did not move. He did not kiss her.

"I think I cannot," she answered finally when the silence between them became unbearable, pulling her hands from her head.

"You _think_ you cannot!" He cried, "that is all you will say?" The scowl was on his face. She had not seen it for a long time. It hurt her that she had to reject him and she knew there was pain hidden underneath that scowl, that façade of anger.

"I have offered you marriage and you _think_ you cannot!" He repeated, the anger rising in his voice. She wondered then what he thought of her. Whether he suspected some parts of her story with her two dresses and the missing luggage and servants, and the vague answers about her background—the lack of Italian songs. Perhaps he thought her poor and would be bringing her up in the world, doing her a favor: that all girls wished for money and comfort and security and marriage.

"You mentioned nothing of love, Captain D'Arcy, and grand-mère said—as practically the last thing to me—her last piece of advice, to only marry for the deepest and most profound love."

He was quiet then. She had never mentioned her grandmother in their conversations and he added that to his knowledge of her and also what she said of love.

"You do not love me then," he said with some finality, defeat in his voice.

" _You_ have not said you loved me," said the spirited Elisabetta voice and turned from him her hand again at her brow. She had not wanted the sweet courtship to end. Being with him had been exciting, it made her pulse race at times, to smile for hours at others, it made her eyes dance with such pleasure to be in his company. She was thrilled whenever he appeared, always so suddenly it seemed, at her side though he was so tall and the ship so small. She loved the way they could talk quietly or the sweet, sweet way he had begun to ask her to sing for him, not like the way the men begged her. He asked softly and politely. She did not want any of that to end but now it had to with his proposal and her rejection of it.

"But you are the captain, how would we marry, you cannot perform the ceremony yourself?" She said as she looked at him. His proposal to her had very English, without an 'I love you,' even without a kiss as John Lucas had given her though John had not said he loved her, at least not outright. Gérard's proposal had been so full of kisses and love that it had been hard to refuse. She wondered what Captain D'Arcy might think of her if she asked him to kiss her.

He was the tall, proud commander of men. Not so much used to having people obey him, it had been a risk, he was showing his hand by asking her to marry him, but he straightened his shoulders and became captain again as she watched. He would not lay another card on the table, say he loved her or attempt to kiss her given her reception of his proposal. He stood at attention in the fore of his ship as though there to simply survey it—make a review of it—that evening. Lisette knew they had come to the end.

"I will retire, good evening," said Lisette.

"Bonsoir," said the captain of the ship.

The crew must have known when she walked away alone and she did not follow the usual path, their usual routine, and walked back along the port side but instead she ran down the starboard stairs by herself to her cabin and the Captain stayed up at the forecastle by the anchor, the wind ruffling his hair for a long, long time.

"Oh sweet mystery of life what have I done by rejecting you?" She asked the dark when she was in her cabin.

Perhaps there was another lesson, she considered later, which had to do with marriage proposals and the rejection of them and that she needed to work on how to reject the men who would propose marriage to her.


	18. Chapter 18

_The sun was sunk beneath the hill,  
_ _The western clouds were lin'd with gold;  
_ _The sky was clear, the winds were still,  
_ _The flocks were pent within the fold;  
_ _When from the silence of the grove,  
_ _Poor Damon thus despair'd of love.  
_ _Poor Damon thus despair'd of love._

* * *

Chapter 18

Early morning noises woke her up, booming sounds that shook her from her slumber, and she sat up and went to the small port hole to look outside. A ship was visible outside her small pane of glass, a type she had never seen before with two tall triangular dark orange sails with a small one at the back. It lay far away from Le Cerf Blanc and Lisette wondered what type of ship it was and what country's flag it sailed under—she could spy none fluttering from the masts.

A fist pounded on her door and she turned to call to it and realized she was still in her nightgown. "Who is it?"

"Aspirant Severin, you are to come with me, Demoiselle, orders from the captain," his voice was anxious.

"Why?" She cried, "what has happened?"

"Corsairs, Demoiselle, come quickly," he called. "Quickly," he repeated, the anxiety quite obvious despite the closed door.

'Corsairs…pirates,' she thought. She stood where she was rather than moving as she should.

"Demoiselle?" His anxiety was evident in his voice as his voice cracked.

The corsairs often held prisoners for ransom; she ripped through her bags for her simple skirt and bodice and then opened the door after she pulled on the top. "I am here, Severin, where are we to go?"

"Captain's quarters," he answered as he looked at her then quickly looked away.

"That cannot be safe; they would certainly search there first!" She was scared, no doubt Captain D'Arcy thought to keep her safe but she felt like a rabbit wishing to go hide. "Hide me, Severin; hide me below, in the cargo hold?" She pulled on the skirt.

"They will search the cargo hold," he explained, "they plunder, Demoiselle."

"The crew's quarters?" She asked. He looked thoughtful as he considered the few places that were available on the small ship.

"The galley, Demoiselle, perhaps the galley, this way," and they left the aft where the officers' quarters were and peered out on the starboard side to see the corsair ships, there were multiple ones on both sides. "Hide yourself," and they leaned over to be below the level of the railing and ran for the forecastle and the set of stairs that led to the berth deck below the main deck. Lisette had only once been below decks when she had insisted on a tour of the ship and St. Denis and Cartier had led her around.

Aspirant Severin led her through a small cargo area spotted with crew men moving about quickly then through the crew's mess which led to both the galley and the officers' mess. This was why she had ended up eating with Captain D'Arcy every day. In order to even eat in the officers' mess she would have had to walk through the crew's mess and that would not have been permissible in the captain's eyes.

Severin opened the galley door and led her inside. There was no place to really hide in the galley though there were a few barrels she might wedge herself behind and she doubted if someone was searching that they would, no doubt, find her.

"Let us hope they do not search here and find you, Demoiselle. I will tell the captain you are here," and he turned to flee but came back and quickly planted a kiss on each cheek, "good luck," and then did fly.

Lisette admitted to herself that she was scared. She had heard tales of the corsairs that came up from the Mediterranean with their swift ships, outmaneuvering the slow-moving merchant ships, raiding them for goods and often holding rich people for ransom—sometimes for years on end. Governments had taken to negotiating with the corsairs which were often governments in themselves and had succeeded with some, but not all of them. Her seeking adventure had not included being held by pirates for ransom.

She ensured her laces and ties were properly done up and was happy she had saved her worn—and torn even—skirt from Dieppe and the pretty bodice. Perhaps if she was caught the pirates would think she was a serving girl of some sort and not hold her captive. Lisette had not worn it since it did not suit the Lady Elisabetta except for that one day she had washed her clothes.

No sounds came to her for a while though there were over a hundred men on board and she supposed they must all be on the main deck defending the boat though she did not hear any sounds of fighting. There were, once or twice, sounds of feet outside but she dared not look. Desperate to channel some of the tension from herself instead of hiding she found a basket full of carrots and a knife and worked at methodically and deliberately slicing even carrot rings. She pulled out a second carrot and began to slowly and methodically slice through that when the door opened and a man looked at her with amusement sparkling in his eyes. He wore robes, not breeches, and a turban on his head. He too had a knife in his hand though his was not meant for slicing carrots. Lisette turned with her back against the small table, her knife still in her hand and looked at him.

He spoke to her in a language she did not understand and she stared still wide-eyed; he tried another language, though how she knew the difference she was not sure, but this time she shook her head.

"You will come with me," he said at last in French. She shook her head. "No? I think I need to insist young woman." He narrowed his eyes a little as he spoke. Lisette felt as though her legs would not work. "You will come and you will leave the knife behind," he said and he stabbed a finger at the knife in her hand.

Lisette put the knife down on the table and took a few steps forward; she was terrified he would grab her but he stepped backwards and made as if an English gentleman to offer her his arm but he simply had her walk, the carrot still clutched in her hand, in front of him through the now deserted berth deck to the narrow stairs. She hoped he was not staring up at her, at her skirts, as she climbed the almost vertical stairs but pulled herself up them as quickly as possible; there was another pirate at the top who did grab her and pull her up roughly out onto the main deck.

She looked out across the deck and saw that so many of her friends from the crew were lined up there, the sailors all gathered together though not in fright as she would have expected but with an unexpected ease. She looked up to the quarterdeck, where the wheel was and where the captain's quarters lay, and saw Captain D'Arcy and his officers standing at the railing there with what must have been corsair guards at their sides. Monsieur and Madam Huppe were at the bottom of the port side staircase with guards over them and the two aspirants standing on the stairs over them with concerned looks.

Lisette stood just as the top of the stairs as she watched the activity of many pirates unloading select items through the hatch in the deck as hands held her in the nook there at the top of the staircase. Most of the French sailors were bunched together and she saw at least four corsair ships from her angled view. After what seemed an hour though it may have only been fifteen or twenty minutes with her racing heart and the tension she could feel from Le Cerf Blanc crew, the corsairs finished their frenetic raid.

"Ray of sunshine," purred a voice in her ear and she jumped.

"No," she whispered as her heart raced even faster thumping against the inside of her corset.

"Ray-of-Sun," said the corsair who had found her and he looked at her, searching her face and looking soulfully into her eyes.

"No," she cried then, attempting to move though there was nowhere to go and the man who had pulled her to the top of those steep stairs held an arm up to stop her movements.

"Come," grinned the corsair who she thought was taking pleasure in tormenting her with his soft voice, an easily amused man, "you are to come too."

"No," and her voice carried then and the ship's crew near her heard her voice and turned and murmurs wove through them and the corsairs set to guard them fingered their weapons: knives and muskets.

"Ray-of-Sun," purred that voice and she twisted, dropped her carrot, and turned in the hold of the second man, her arm hurting in his grip.

"No," she screamed and then all the eyes were on her, all the crew on the main deck were looking at her and all the officers up on the quarterdeck looked at her. She caught D'Arcy's eyes. Captain D'Arcy had stormy eyes—he had been unaware of her presence until then and thought Severin had hidden her and could not conceal the dismay from his face. It was shared by his senior officers lined up next to him with their armed captors so close. Despite those weapons on his wall and the other munitions on board the corsairs had easily over-whelmed the crew and seized the ship.

A hand came to the small of her back but the pirate on the other side kept his vile clutch on her arm and they began to pull her to the port side where she saw other pirates were dragging the Huppes. Madame Huppe, bound with her hands in front of her, looked wild and frightened and incensed at her world falling out of control, being entirely out of context.

"I do not want to go," Lisette cried with tears coming then in her eyes. Madame Huppe was there before her with her bound hands.

"These bastards…," shrieked Madame Huppe, "this filth cannot do this!" She cried as she was dragged to the edge and thrown over the shoulder of one of the corsairs. The lady screamed and kicked but her captor held her tight as he began to descend the rope ladder to a boat below. "They say they are to ransom us but I cannot image _you_ are worth anything," cried the lady looking up awkwardly at Lisette who was still being dragged forward, "you are nothing but the ship's whore," cried Madame Huppe who then disappeared.

"I do not want to go," Lisette screamed, wrestling with her kidnappers. Captain D'Arcy's proposal had brought an end to that sweet courtship but she had still thought there would be adventure to be had on board the ship for her remaining days. It had become a sort of family, the officers and crew and the time with le capitaine and Lisette did not want to leave; the longing to stay was greater than her fear of going with the corsairs.

She was dragged to where Madame Huppe had disappeared and she fought the two pirates who had a hold of her arms, one with his grip on her arm, the other—her first captor—with that wicked grin and with an arm around her waist and a strong grip on her elbow held her arm straight to her side.

Her arms were pulled behind her and pain shot through her shoulders and Lisette cried aloud and her hands were bound behind her and then one of the men let go but her first captor turned to look out at the deck of Le Blanc Cerf. All eyes were on her and the grinning corsair with his hand on her arm. She looked up at the quarterdeck, at Captain D'Arcy, and wondered why he would let her go; she looked at the officers—why would they let her go? The Aspirants were still on the stairs above a silent Monsieur Huppe; they had tears streaming down their cheeks as they looked at her.

"I will pay her ransom," cried a voice.

The man who had finished binding her wrists and had such a firm grip on her arm looked up at Captain D'Arcy. "Ah, capitaine, you like Ray-of-Sun!"

"I will pay her ransom," repeated D'Arcy out over the whole company and the two men shared an intense look between them.

"That is not how it is done and you know it," he gave a little formal bow to the captain. She wondered about that remark. She wondered what Captain D'Arcy knew about the corsairs and how they operated.

"I will pay her ransom," D'Arcy said a third time. His hands leaned and gripped the rail before him and the two pirates behind him pulled him roughly back.

The corsair looked as all eyes of the men on the deck, French and corsair, were caught watching the conversation between the two of them. Her captor then picked up Lisette and handed her off to another who threw her over his shoulder. The man was rough with her up on his shoulder, her body hurt in the awkwardness of being carried that way and with her hands bound behind her. Her face lay against his back and her hair hung loosely, uncombed and in the way, and obliterated most of her view as he moved over the rail and began to descend. She heard sounds, shouts from the crew, her name—"Elisabetta," and "Mademoiselle," and "Trento,"—and sounds of movement as though fighting had broken out. Perhaps the crew would mutiny against the corsairs and over-power them and set her free.

She could only hope that all of her friends, the officers, the aspirants, the Breton sailors and Captain D'Arcy were fighting the corsairs. But the man lowered her into the boat, Monsieur Huppe followed and she was rowed away. She watched Le Cerf Blanc grow smaller as she was rowed farther away and could not see the activity above the railing but it seemed the mutiny had failed.

She was stowed, she could not think of it any other way, with Monsieur and Madame Huppe below decks on the corsair boat in a single cabin about the same size as her previous one. Their bonds were cut. Madam Huppe was hysterical. She kept screaming "these bastards, these Arab scum, this filth, you cannot kidnap me, you cannot hold me!" She even knew some of those swear words her tormentor knew who had treed her that day so many months ago. Lisette curled up in as tight of a ball as she could in a corner to avoid the woman and her fists which pounded on the door and to block her screaming. Monsieur Huppe was not inclined to do anything but lie on the bunk even with his wife so hysterical.


	19. Chapter 19

_Freedom is a real treasure,  
_ _Love a dream, all false and vain;  
_ _Love a dream, all false and vain;  
_ _Short, uncertain is the pleasure,  
_ _Sure and lasting is the pain,  
_ _Sure and lasting is the pain._

* * *

Chapter 19

Her tormentor came after a day, or perhaps an hour, or perhaps a week. Lisette felt as if she had no way to measure time. He did not plead with Madame Huppe to be quiet and to be calm but he looked at Monsieur Huppe lying on the bed and at Madame Huppe with her fiery eyes and her bruised hands and then at Lisette in her ball in the shadows in the corner. Lisette begged to be removed from the cabin and her hands were bound again and she was tied to a wall in the hull.

The corsairs had been kidnapping people for years so the game was one they had perfected and knew all the moves to and held most of the cards. It consisted of not giving in to the first ransom offer and in holding out for ridiculously high sums of money; having found in the past that people—and governments— _did_ pay, especially when the victims were sold into slavery if the ransom demands were ignored or the ransom was not paid; and the slavery options for women were especially evil.

Lisette sat hungry with her hands bound again behind her and a rope around her waist—it allowed her to at least attempt to sleep—that kept her in place in the hold of that corsair ship. She had been brought water but no food by various men. Then her tormentor stood before her with a dish and he squatted in front of her and placed it on the floor, reaching behind her to untie the ropes that bound her hands and arms in such an awkward position.

She brought her hands slowly and painfully in front of her as the blood flowed back through them in a manner that they had not been used to for two days; to even flex her fingers hurt and she looked down at her hands as she simply twisted her forearms to look at the bruising and raw skin around her wrists from her bonds and to also work on breathing so as to maintain as stoic a face as she could with her tormentor still squatting next to her. She could feel his eyes on her noting every movement. Lisette flexed her fingers again and her entire arm hurt with that movement and she could not help shuddering with the action. How was she to feed herself if she could not move her fingers?

"They will work again," he said in French. She had to look at him as he sat there on his heels next to her. "I will leave them unbound, for now." And there was a threat attached to those words, she understood that, but he made no attempt to move away but sat and looked at her tracing his eyes over her face as though he were painting her skin with the strokes. "The men on that ship called you Elisabetta, that is an Italian name," he said.

She nodded in response. He smiled and tilted his head as he kept his own dark eyes on hers. He spoke then in a different language and she caught a word or two enough to believe he was speaking to her in Italian. His smile widened into what she thought could be best described as an evil grin.

"You are not Italian," he said simply.

"Perhaps I do not wish to respond in my native tongue," she answered.

"No," he stood then towering over her, "not when I have insulted you as I did and you did not even bat an eyelash. No, you are not Italian, Mademoiselle." He turned and left.

It took her poor arms and hands and fingers at least an hour to return to enough feeling and for the pain to subside that she could eat with a delicate grasp.

* * *

He came again the next day and sat beside her.

"What game are you playing?" He asked in French.

"I do not understand," she answered, "I am not playing any game."

"The men on Le Cerf Blanc thought you were Italian and yet you are not, you are playing a game," he grinned, "how is it I have ferreted out your little secret and they did not?" He tilted his head that small bit again. "You are an actress of renown, perhaps…or a spy?"

Lisette froze as she saw his imagings and considered that he thought her worth a lot of money. If she was a spy, some government might pay a lot of money for her return; or even worse, a foreign government might pay even more money for her capture. She felt as though there was some horrible spiky growth inside of her that moved in twisting wounding contortions as he continued to speak bringing with it pain as Lisette realized her danger and that she may never be released from this ship's hold.

"I am an orphan and have run away from home," she said pleading more than she thought she would; she had wanted to be brave and stoic but Captain D'Arcy and his crew had not saved her from this fate and she had no idea of how to plead with a pirate.

"You look too fine, Ray-of-Sun," he replied with nonchalance.

"Why do you call me Ray-of-Sun?" Lisette asked, allowing herself to be distracted for a moment.

"Because men follow you with their eyes like plants follow the sun, with slow determination," he said, that grin gracing his face again in full bloom, " _someone_ will pay for you," and he stood and left again with an indifference step.

* * *

Her hands were left unbound; there was nowhere to escape to and the knot on the rope around her waist was a complex affair and beyond her sore fingers those first few days. There were men in the hold with her; the crew slept there as well, as they had on Le Cerf Blanc, though she had never seen their hammocks or bedrolls—she had not been permitted below decks on Captain D'Arcy's ship but that one time she had demanded a tour and then on that last morning when she had attempted to hide. She should have done a better job of it: hiding behind the barrels and not distracting herself with chopping a carrot. The corsair crew ignored her as though she were simply another barrel or a chest to be stowed. She had no idea how the Huppes' fared in their small room or whether they might have been moved off of the ship entirely.

A number of days into her captivity a young man, a boy still, came to bring her water—for it was only her tormentor who brought her food—and she studied him. She had not supposed when, at what age, one became a pirate, but he was a youth of ten or twelve, perhaps, built compactly though she supposed he might change a lot as he grew into manhood; she had no brothers to know how boys change into men. He moved through the items in the hold and he was singing and she looked up from her place on the floor of the hold, a dusty spot, dark and always a little cool no matter what the temperature might be outside, and his voice was a beautiful soprano voice and unexpected tears came to her eyes as she listened to him sing in his native tongue. It did not matter that she could not understand the words, it was beautiful and brought a little sunshine to her dark corner of the hold so she thanked him eagerly and warmly for the cup of water he brought.

Lisette did not want to speak of her rich father who would surely pay her ransom; she did not want to return to Longbourn to marry Cousin Collins. She thought about what her grandfather Bennet had said about being able to sing for her dowry and in mentioning Scheherazade, and the next day it was again the youth who brought her water and he was once again singing as he came to her with her small allotment of water. He finished his song before he reached her and despite a parched throat she sang a response to him. It hurt her throat to sing and she had closed her eyes as she sang to concentrate on finishing it. When it was done she opened them to find him looking at her with an almost tender expression and Lisette also noticed that there was almost no sound in the hold. The cohort of men who normally worked and moved about in the hold had stopped their activity to listen to her sing.

The youth knelt to give her the cup.

"Thank you," she said.

"Raïs," he replied.

"Thank you, Raïs," she smiled and he nodded.

Raïs brought her meal to her that evening and Lisette wondered at the change. He did not sit, as her tormentor sat, right next to her, but four or five feet away until she finished.

"Will sing again?" He asked. His French was broken, but she could understand it.

"Yes," and she smiled and sang and again the working sounds of the hold quieted as she sang and there was nothing to be heard when she was done, no sounds of voices or work or snoring. Raïs nodded and left.

The next evening again Raïs brought her food and again he asked her to sing and she noticed the same effect on the men in the hold.

* * *

Expecting to see Raïs she was dismayed to see her tormentor appear again with her food.

"Surely there is someone who would pay for you?" He said as she sat next to her and handed her the dish.

"No one," she said not taking the food immediately. She wondered if he would leave soon. He sat and studied her face as seemed to be his want. Lisette finally took up her dish which he had placed on her skirts and began eating—always with her fingers as no one brought her a utensil.

"Someone must love you or want you enough to ransom you. Your companions have given me lots of names of people to consider." She supposed he meant the Huppes.

"There are people who love me; people who value me, but there is no one to pay money for me," she insisted as she continued to eat. He watched her carefully. When she finished she thrust the dish back at him.

"You have spark, Ray-of-Sun," he grinned and left.

The next evening her tormentor came again to pester her about someone to ransom her. She noticed he did not insist on learning her true name and story. He had time and infinite patience to achieve his reward. Before she thrust his dish back to him, she asked,

"May I not buy myself, ransom myself?"

He looked at her with a great deal of curiosity as though no one had ever offered, or rather, no woman had ever offered to ransom herself—for money. An eyebrow was raised as though to question how that would be at all possible.

"I have no money but I have my voice. You call me Ray-of-Sun and I have seen the way my singing affects even your crew, may I not sing for my ransom?" She asked. Lisette used her best game-playing skills as she asked, keeping her voice and her face as neutral as possible but pitching the idea as a fisherman casts a line, dangling the bait there to be seen and considered.

"Let me hear your voice," he said with an equally neutral face.

She sang one of her saucepan songs. He too had a good poker face but she believed he was affected. He would be very good to play cards with, she supposed, as she sat impassive after she finished and looked only at him; she could tell from the silence that work in the hold had stopped.

"I will consider it," he said and stood with the dish, looked down on her with the rope around her in her dark corner and turned then and left.

The next day Raïs came to her singing and with a pleased air about him. He sat nearer than he usually did as she drank her small sips of water. Lisette wondered if he knew what she had proposed and was pleased for her.

Her tune came to her then; she had thought it lost as though her captivity had torn it from her head but it had returned bouncing around and she whistled or hummed it—still unfinished thought it was—and considered it was another of those mysteries of life that she would never finish that tune begun so many months ago when she was the spoiled rich daughter of an Englishman thinking of how to get out of marrying her foppish cousin.

So much had happened since then. She had fled her home, learned new skills and songs. Learned some lessons too.

Lisette considered her last moments on board the ship and why Captain D'Arcy had not saved her. She was angry with him for being unable to protect her. The corsairs had been uninterested in taking any of the crew hostage. Was that by design, as if they knew French seamen were penniless or was it that there was some code that they would not do so? The corsairs had not considered the officers, either. She thought of the two junior officers, tears streaming down their faces—they had loved her—and been concerned for her fate. Why had D'Arcy and his senior officers not done more? Lisette thought, perhaps, she would never be able to forgive them as she sat roped to the wall in the dark hold of the corsair ship; she would never forgive them or forgive Captain D'Arcy for keeping her from this fate.

Another lesson learned: she must rely only on herself, and she hoped she would be able to earn her freedom through her song.

* * *

A pattern developed then, her young friend came in the morning and he began to smuggle her extra food; she knew it was contraband as he sat nearer her now and would tuck the bread in the fold of her skirt while they talked in French. He was working to improve his French by speaking with her, he said.

At night—and she did not know why she knew it was night since there were no portholes to tell her, but she could sense it—her tormentor came to bring her a meal and to hear another song. He insisted that it always be a _new_ song. Lisette had a limited repertoire of French songs so she had to begin singing in English.

He showed only a little surprise that first night when she finished her first English tune.

"You know English songs," it was a simple statement but she had learned that with this man, who never offered her his name, he could leap in a direction she could not anticipate in their conversations.

"Oui," she answered, attempting to turn the conversation back to French and painting a picture of her being a French lady, or a run-away.

"Perhaps you are English," he said, "though you do not look it," and his eyes were on her again as he did so often, sweeping over her face and down over her body as though to assess some Englishness about her.

"I told you I am poor, look at my hands," and Lisette held out her hands, rough from laundry, her nails cracked, the wounds from being bound around her wrists were healing and the bruises there were fading but still showed.

"They do not look like the hands of an English lady," he looked up from her hands to her face. "I have heard tell of a rich English lady whose father will pay a thousand English pounds for her," he said staring intently then in her eyes.

Lisette was lucky that she had played so many games of chance when she heard that news: that her father was now offering a thousand pounds to have her returned to him, that Mr. Bennet had not stopped looking. Lisette kept her face impassive and looked back with equal nonchalance at her tormentor.

* * *

She never asked if he was pleased and if that was to be the last song. She simply kept singing and knew it enchanted him and hoped that one day there was to be a final song and he would let her go.

Some days he would bring her a meal and wave at her to sing, but other evenings he would ask her questions again about someone to contact to pay her ransom and ask her about running away from home and she would sit, tight-lipped and say home was unhappy so she had left and meant to seek employment where she could. He came every evening and Raïs came every morning and that became her new life though it was not an adventure, not one she had ever imagined.

She thought about the Tales of a Thousand and One Nights and she thought of her grandfather reckoning another thousand and one days to his own life and Lisette knew that added up to almost three years. She did not wish to spend three years in captivity singing as she would run out of songs and when she did run out of songs she wondered what she was to do.

* * *

One evening he stood over with her food bowl in hand as though he was reluctant to surrender it over to her.

"Why do you know so many songs in English?" He said and he held the bowl out a little ways from his body. She looked up at the bowl wondering if he would stop feeding her if she did not answer the question. Her circumstances there in the hold were difficult enough to bear with; sleeping there with the rope around her waist and no other covering, no bath since leaving Captain D'Arcy's ship and just the dusty darkness of the corner of this ship's hold where she lay at anchor as though she were a ship within a ship.

"I am half and half, half French and half English," she answered and hoped to evade revealing which parent was which.

He knelt down next to her as he always did; taking in her dark eyes and put the dish on the edge of her skirt. He had not touched her since he had unbound her hands that day. His hand came up then, his right hand, and he touched her cheek the palm cool against her skin.

"Now we are getting somewhere," he said and he moved his hand over and laid the back of that hand against her other cheek still looking into her eyes but Lisette thought she saw something inside of his own dark eyes melt and thought that he was just a vulnerable to her sun.

Lisette ate slowly as he sat next to her; he did not ask her any more questions though she thought he might begin the questioning again when she finished and she considered what song to sing him that evening. She wanted to go; to be gone and away from her captors though she had been heartened by the small kindnesses from Raïs. When she finished her meal she held the bowl out to him with a flat face; he took it and looked down at it and then back up at her and then waved his hand that she should sing—that he had no questions to pester her with that evening.

Lisette sang her best Gaelic song. She sang it from the heart. It had been learned because of defiance against a father that had turned into hatred and had imbibed her soul and it poured out of her with a passion that burned out of her skin.

 _Tell me not that thou dost love me,  
_ _Though it thrill me with delight:  
_ _Thou art, like the stars, above me;  
_ _I—the lowly earth at night._

 _Hast thou (thou from kings descended)  
_ _Loved the Indian cottage-born;  
_ _And shall she, whom Love befriended,  
_ _Darken all they hopeful morn?_

 _Go,—and for thy father's glory,  
_ _Wed the blood that's pure and free:  
_ ' _Tis enough to gild my story,  
_ _That I once was loved by thee!_

Lisette could tell that it had moved him. His shoulders softened and his breathing was different and he left without displaying that nonchalance he was so practiced at; his steps away from her spot in the hold were hurried.

Over the next successive days she sang songs in Breton with an equal passion and she could see there was the same response; her tormentor took her bowl and left quickly after her song. He peppered her with no more questions.

One morning Raïs brought an entire bucket of water and a large cloth.

"You are to be freed," he whispered to her as he knelt down beside her.

Lisette stared up at him as she processed his words. He nodded as her realization showed on her face.

Emotion welled up from her chest and all that she had contained, any longing and hope that had been restrained for the countless weeks overwhelmed her as tears came and she hid her face in an arm and wept.

When she was calm enough she looked up and realized Raïs had stepped away. She used the bucket of water and found a cake of soap wrapped in the cloth and washed, delighting in the feeling of being as clean as such a wash could afford her.

Raïs returned sometime later with a knife and cut her free from her rope.

"How am I to be let go?" Asked Lisette as she stood looking at her one friend on board the corsair ship.

"You are to be given over to an English ship, we are to run up a truce flag and hand you over," he said.

Lisette was alarmed at this news and that fact showed on her face. It was as if her tormentor was making some final play that she had not anticipated; he had trumped her winning hand. She would be on an English ship and going back to England.

"I thank you for being so kind to me," she said to Raïs.

"Will you sing a song for me?" He asked. She thought first of her own song, the one that had stayed with her all these months of her adventure and she hummed a few bars of it but gave up and then sang to him in English, a country song, one which was also a little sad.

He smiled when she finished and then suddenly he leaned over to press a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Will you share your name?" He asked.

"Call me Babette," she whispered. He smiled again.

"Farewell, Babette," and he turned and disappeared into the hold of the ship.

Later, her tormentor came to get her and led her through the maze of the ship and up onto the deck. The intense light hurt her eyes and they teared as she squinted in the blinding white light and she had to be led with a hand on her arm and one at her back across the deck to the railing and again she was heaved over a shoulder and taken down to a waiting boat. If her tormentor carried her or if he stayed at the deck and watched her row away she did not know as she could not see. Lisette supposed he must be in a position of some command on the ship but he had never introduced himself, he never gave his rank or his name.

At the English ship she was hoisted up by an over-hand swing and could only hold on and pray she would not fall as she was still blind and her eyes still teared until a hand came to reach her elbow and a voice called out to her in English.

"Welcome aboard, I am Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake."

* * *

A/N: I had originally thought to have a historical corsair be her captor but could not find one that fit my time-frame. I did, however, find Raïs Hamidou who was only twelve in 1785 so I wrote _him_ into my story. He is quite a character and was known, when an adult, for his gallantry and chivalry. He is the subject of video games and comic books. If you take the time to google him, he is always portrayed with magnificent moustaches. There is a statue erected in Algeria of him.

I like to think of fantasy affecting reality in this case—that Raïs was so affected by his encounter with Lisette that it made him an honorable, gallant corsair when he grew up.


	20. Chapter 20

_Come thou rosy dimpled boy,  
_ _Source of ev'ry heart-felt joy,  
_ _Leave the blissful bow'rs awhile,  
_ _Paphos and the Cyprian isle;_

 _Visit Britains rocky shore,  
_ _Britons too thy pow'r adore;  
_ _Britons hardy, bold and free,  
_ _Own thy laws and yield to thee.  
_ _Come thou rosy dimpled boy._

* * *

Chapter 20

She was helped over the rail and collapsed at his feet. Lisette had not fainted but felt weak and the intense light made her dizzy combined with the trip aboard on the swing.

"Miss," called the voice as he leaned over hesitancy in it, the captain, he had said when he called out to her. She sensed there were others as well. Lisette lay where she was allowing herself to feel safe again though she lay on the deck of an English ship. A hand touched her arm.

"Your name?" Said the voice.

She needed to decide on an English name and thought of her friend back home in Kent.

"Charlotte," she gasped but then realized she needed a surname and surely could not use 'Lucas' but thought of 'Philips' and her beloved Uncle and Aunt, "Charlotte Philips," and as if introductions sanctioned the action, arms lifted her up and he carried her away to be revived.

The man who held her hesitated once inside, and she was able to open her eyes and look around her when the glare of the sun was shuttered by their coming in from the deck. These captain's quarters were smaller than Captain D'Arcy's, though she supposed, like D'Arcy's, they were the best accommodations on the ship.

He was tall and quite English in his appearance with brown hair and a rather plain and stern face. He seemed to be wondering where to put her but then made up his mind and strode forward and placed her on the neatly made bed. Men arrived behind him, officers with their hands full, ale or water for her to drink, she supposed, there was one who looked quite as young as the aspirants on Captain D'Arcy's ship and she considered there must be an equal rank on a British ship. No one spoke to her so far, and they all regarded her with a sense of awe, as if they did not know what to make of her, all those officers, she did not understand the reaction. Then, a lady crowded in behind them.

The lady was about average height, taller than Lisette, plump and with a look of gentility about her. She had a plain face with spectacles on her nose, dark blond hair and blue eyes; she wore her hair in a severe style. She looked like a companion, or Lisette's idea of a companion, especially based on the quality of her clothes. It was this lady who moved past the men and came to speak to her.

"I am Mary Bacon," she said leaning over and looking her intently in the eyes.

"Lottie," whispered Lisette.

"Oh my dear! Lieutenant Moore told me about you, that you had been on a corsair ship!" She fanned herself with her hand, "I cannot imagine!" Her voice lowered and she put out a hand to Lisette's cheek, then to her forehead, then back to the other cheek and Lisette thought she would break into tears at being fussed over. It had been a long time to have a caring person, a caring woman, fret over her in such a manner. Lisette lay there impassive though, as she was on display with the captain and his officers watching.

"She must come and stay with Anna and I," said Mary looking up at the assemblage of men. She turned back to Lisette. "Have you eaten?"

"No," replied Lisette.

"Are you hungry?" She asked catching Lisette's hand and looking at Lisette's stained and dirty clothes then.

"No," said Lisette who knew she must be quite the sight to look at but she had not seen herself in a mirror in weeks.

"Are you thirsty?" Asked Mary Bacon.

"No."

While the officers stood and watched, Mary helped 'Lottie Philips' to her feet and she joined the passenger list of The Elinor and was noted in its log books by Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake.

Mary, with a solid arm around her waist, led her out of the captain's quarters and Lisette had to shade the sun from her eyes again. They walked a few yards to an opening in the deck.

"These are the only stairs, all the others are ladders," said her new acquaintance and left off there, the implication being that skirts and ladders did not mix. They had to let go of one another as the stairs were so narrow Lisette felt as though her shoulders brushed on either side of the stairwell as she went down.

"This is our room," Mary said turning down a hallway equally as narrow as the stairwell and opening the first door. "The other passengers share accommodations down there but I have never been inside," she said pointing to where the hallway ended at a second door.

The room was far larger than the one Lisette had on Le Cerf Blanc. It contained two beds—wider than the miniscule one she slept in before—and contained two trunks and two small wooden chairs one of which was occupied by a woman sitting with needlework in her lap by a small port window the same size as Lisette's previous one—those must be the same size no matter what type of ship.

"Anna, this is Lottie Philips who has been rescued from corsairs!" Exclaimed Mary Bacon as she shut the door.

Anna looked up with light blue eyes, dark circles under them indicated she frequently slept poorly; they were accented by pale, almost translucent skin as though she never went on deck. She had not really been at her needlework as her hands had been lying beside it, the needle tucked into the fabric.

"How do you do?" She said formally and held out a small hand without standing. Lisette took it and shook it gently and replied with a curtsey which made her wobble.

"You must lie down," exclaimed Mary who led her to one of the beds. Lisette did not protest as Mary's manner made her give in to that sense of safety and care she had felt in the captain's quarters though part of her gave a small thought to always remaining self-reliant—a lesson from her time in the corsair ship.

She had no shoes on her feet any longer that needed to be removed and the covers were pulled back and she was pressed down onto sheets, linen sheets, her head on an actual pillow and she gave over, into something, as though her body needed to rest and to heal from the trauma of her captivity.

It was as if the despair, outrage, and terror of her captivity consumed her in a physical way and she took ill for a time and she slept for almost two days. It had nothing to do with seasickness.

* * *

When Lisette woke a gentle morning light came through the two port windows in the cabin. She rolled over to see the other bed occupied by the light blond hair of Anna. Anna had not shared her family name and Lisette wondered about her circumstances and the fact of her and Mary's traveling together.

Mary's figure was on a make-shift pallet on the floor and Lisette shuffled quietly out of the bed. She headed for the door but spied a shelf on the wall, with a small railing around it so items did not fall off in the rolling action of the ship. There was a mirror on it and Lisette picked it up.

She had not seen herself in a mirror for over five weeks and did not see the doe-eyed Madonna that one admirer had once remarked upon but a rather wild creature looking out at her. Her eyes were the same dark brown but looked haunted; her trials during her captivity to be read in them. Her skin was pale, far paler than she had ever seen with her time in the corsair hold out of the sun, and she had the same dark circles under her eyes that Anna displayed. She thought she looked fragile and delicate as though made of china and far more English than French. Lisette wondered what the captain and the officers had thought of her half wild, and half fragile appearance.

She realized she could not remember the last time she had combed her hair and was glad then that she had cut it otherwise it would be entirely unruly after all that time on the corsair ship where she could only braid it as a means of controlling it. Lisette was overwhelmed suddenly, and she lay the mirror down lest she see the tears that pricked her eyes as she remembered the day he had cut her hair as she had stood patiently while Captain D'Arcy had used a knife to trim her hair lock by lock. It had been the same day he had asked her to marry him and she had rejected him. The next day the corsairs had come and taken her away. She braided her hair again in an attempt at appearances and in an attempt at forgetting those memories.

The door was opened and closed softly behind her and she worked her way back up onto the deck, the morning light was bright and vibrant and added to the tears in her eyes and she wished for a hat or a bonnet to help block out the light. Lisette had to turn and clutch at the railing once up on deck. She supposed she must be hungry but she had no notion of needing food though she did wish for something to drink. She stood there looking at the gray of the sea before her, feeling the wind at her face and tearing the braid apart that she had plaited as best she could though she had no ribbon to hold it and wondered about her return to England.

"Miss Philips?" An officer stood about five feet away from her. He did not seem to be looking directly at her, but rather at some point beyond her right shoulder.

"Yes," she nodded and wiped at the few tears in her eyes and attempted to tame the hair that flew around her face.

"Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake asked that you join him whenever you were well enough to do so. May I escort you to his quarters?" She thought it unfair to have to speak to the captain when she had just opened her eyes but since she was at his mercy—she was not a paying passenger—she nodded again and followed the officer with smaller steps and a more reluctant pace than she usually used.

Like on Le Cerf Blanc the captain's quarters were at the aft though these were on the main deck not on a deck above; this was a different sort of ship and she had a sense it was a far newer ship though she did not know how she could tell. The officer opened the door, announced her, and she went in. She had not recalled the small hallway before; there was another door there and knowing Captain D'Arcy's ship she wondered if it led to a chart room as well.

Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake had been at his table eating his breakfast but he stood waiting for her and bowed to her. "Miss Philips I am happy to see you have recovered. We were worried to hear you were so ill." He waved her to a chair where she saw a cup of tea waiting for her.

Lisette stared then at that cup of tea, feeling tears welling in her eyes as it had been months since she had drunk tea. It had not been served on board Captain D'Arcy's ship unless asked for—coffee was preferred there—and she had given over asking for it once she had given over playing the haughty mistress role.

"Tea," she whispered, "it has been so very long since I have had tea." She stood and stared at the cup and when she did not move anymore he came from his place at the table to take her arm and move her there and seat her before the cup. Her first sip took her instantly back to the morning parlor at Longbourn and talking to visitors and of the face of her mother. Lisette was instantly homesick as the image of Mrs. Bennet and then her grand-mère and her grandfather seemed to swim before her. All of those days in the hold of the corsair boat she had concentrated on securing her release and she had not allowed herself to be sentimental about her family or to allow herself to be homesick. Now it welled up in her and she sipped again and then had to wipe at her eyes.

"I fear the tea does not agree with you," said the captain as he watched her.

"It has been such a trial for me, my captivity," was all she could say and she took another sip of tea.

"You are in safe hands now, Miss Philips, the safe and secure hands of your countrymen," he said as he finally sat down at his place across from her at the table.

"You said I was ill?" Lisette wished to turn the conversation away from the corsairs. "Is it not but yesterday that you took me aboard?"

He shook his head. "It has been two days, you have slept for a day and a half and nothing seemed to wake you. Miss Bacon has been excessively worried about you, such is her nature."

"Two days! I have never been so ill in all my life!" She cried with a certain spirit. "That is not at all something I would have ever give in to but I have been one used to daily exercise and was tied up, with a rope around my waist and for many days with my hands bound too in the hold of that boat for days or weeks. I have no notion of the time." Her voice petered off.

"A rope!" He was shocked as he imagined her confinement in the corsair ship. "How did you come to be taken by them?"

"I was on a merchant ship," she began, "and they attacked before dawn and searched the ship taking what cargo they wanted and then they took the passengers hostage but not any of the ship's crew."

"I have heard there are some that do that, it is almost as if they are extending some sort of courtesy by not harming the crew members but they take hostages of anyone who pays for their passage. Not all the corsairs operate that way, some will take an entire ship hostage, particularly if it is a government ship," replied Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake. Lisette thought that explained her exploitation at the hands of the corsairs; why they had taken just her and the Huppes hostage and not Captain D'Arcy or his crew but it did not make capture and captivity any less of an ordeal.

Lisette sipped her tea and could feel his eyes on her, looking over her dirty and wind-blown hair and her dark eyes with the wild look to them, her pallor, and her worn and dirty second-hand clothes. He was seeking to frame a question, a delicate question, though he wanted to know the answer.

"Why did they hand you over to me? It is out of character for the Barbary corsairs to flag down a ship and hand over a hostage. I have never heard of them ever doing such a thing," he asked with an even-toned voice.

"I am not familiar with how they normally operate, Captain—forgive me, I have forgotten your name," and she put a hand to her head. She thought for a minute she might have used another captain's name.

"Fitzwilliam-Blake, Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake," and he nodded to her with slightly sad eyes as he tried to understand her captivity at the hands of the pirates. "Normally they receive ransom from a hostage's family or a government or an agency which negotiates such things, and then the hostage is exchanged for the money at some point on land. I have never heard tell of a captive at sea before, an exchange made such as we did. They are not held on boats as far as I know."

She looked at him with her hand on her tea cup and wondered about sharing her tale of singing for her release, ransoming herself, but she did not wish to speak about singing. It seemed that had gotten her into trouble on her last ship, it had gotten her into trouble with the captain though could falling in love with the captain be called trouble? Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake still looked at her with deep concern as he framed another question in his head.

"Are you well of mind, and of body, and of spirit?" Which was about as delicately as he could put his question.

"I am," she replied, understanding his concern, appreciating it, and seeking to reassure him. "My body will heal," she looked at her wrists where faint scars still showed from her bonds. His eyes followed hers. "My mind is sound. My spirit has been shaken by being taken off of the ship when we were so close to Lisbon; I was so close to my destination."

"Lisbon? How is it that an English lady was on a merchant ship and came to be off of the coast of Portugal?"

She thought of all the tales she had woven before and found herself having to invent a history and a disguise—she had adopted the name Lottie Philips—and to invent a tale and drew on all the others she had pieced together before and said she was English, and as with Monsieur Dujardin, a recent orphan, having lost her mother and yet her new guardian wanted to marry her off, and that she had chosen to run away from home with some money she had been given by an elderly relative.

"A guardian! I have certain responsibilities, you understand. If you have not reached your majority I may be obliged to return you to your guardian," his face was stoic and unreadable. "May I ask your age, Miss Philips?"

Lisette knew she had an excellent ability to lie outright to the captain but in this instance her birthday had been fast approaching and it might be one time where she need not instill an untruth in her story. "I am twenty but I shall be twenty-one soon but I have no idea of the date as I have no idea how long I spent on that ship."

"It is the 25th of August," he answered.

"Then I am twenty-one for I reached my majority five days ago," and she took a sip of what was now tepid tea. Lisette also realized how long she had been with the corsairs. They had been four days out from Lisbon which was to have been reached on July 22nd when they had been attacked. She had spent just over five weeks in the hold of the corsair ship; it had been five weeks since she saw any of the crew of Le Cerf Blanc, any of the officers, the aspirants or Captain D'Arcy and tears came suddenly then with her hands on her tea cup as she sat at Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake's table and wept. He sat up a little straighter and was surprised that the subject brought her over in tears. He was an Englishman who was entirely unused to dealing with a weeping woman.

She had been so angry that D'Arcy had not been able to save her from the corsairs and it had been a terrible ordeal all those weeks in the hold of that ship where she sat tied to the wall and sang for her ransom like Scheherazade telling tales to avoid being put to death. Lisette thought about that boat ride as she was rowed away from Le Cerf Blanc and onto the corsair ship and she remembered that there were two other corsair ships on that port side and she supposed there had to be others on the starboard side as well. Perhaps they had been outnumbered and outgunned and outmanned and Captain D'Arcy had no choice but to surrender rather than have his entire ship be sunk or have his entire crew be slaughtered by the corsairs though it still had not spared her or the Huppes their fate.

She sat and cried in Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake's quarters. She had tried to be brave in the hold of the corsair ship but now she let lose to all of her sorrows and of really being small and vulnerable and afraid the entire time during that battle of wills with her tormentor; there had been no bedding and never enough food and no companionship. It was a long time before she came to.

Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake realized as he watched her just what an ordeal her captivity had been to have been bound to that hold wall—that brief glance at her faintly scarred wrists—and being held without sunshine for over a month and though he looked at her with that same calm face his eyes were softer.

When they abated, the captain did not seem inclined to ask her further questions but he passed her a handkerchief which almost made her weep anew—to have a gentleman pass a lady a handkerchief—and because she had not seen such a thing, such a fine accessory in months and to think it had been something she had daily use of and had taken for granted at Longbourn. It had not become a necessity in her adventuring.

"I am beholden to you for taking me in and perhaps returning me home," she ventured as she held out the handkerchief to return it and he pressed it back to her, "I have a little money, they never took it off of me, I might be able to pay for my trip home, my passage."

"We are rather full up right now," he was happy to speak of the running of his ship and not of her troubles, "we will find you room."

"What English port are we headed to?" Asked Lisette.

"We are not headed for England but the West Indies," he replied.

"The West Indies!" She cried in great surprise looking at him to ensure she had heard him correctly. "I have no luggage, no clothes, no shoes!" She sat up a little straighter. "How long will it take?"

"Twenty-five days for we were to just turn and head west to take us over the Atlantic. You shall have to stay with Mrs. de Bourgh and Miss Bacon perhaps they can spare you clothes?"

"Yes, perhaps," she looked at her tea cup then back up at him, "are there any uniforms, any extras items of clothing on board, an extra shirt perhaps that I might tailor? I can pay for it."

"I will see," he said though without conviction.

"One last request; I know water is precious but I should like to have a thorough wash, even a bucket of water would be welcome."

"We have water storage tanks; I believe we can accommodate you," he was more assured of meeting that request.

"I thank you," and she rose.

He was not an easy man to read, very English, very stoic, and stern though she had grown up around Englishmen. Lisette had spent a month at sea with Frenchmen whom she had found more staightforward and as she departed, she had no idea what he thought of her.


	21. Chapter 21

_Come again! Come again!  
Sunshine cometh after rain.  
As a lamp fed newly burneth,  
Pleasure, who doth fly, returneth,  
Scattering every cloud of pain.  
As the year, which dies in showers,  
Riseth in a world of flowers,  
Call'd by many a vernal strain,  
Come thou, —for whom tears were falling,  
And a thousand tongues are calling!  
Come again, O come again,  
Like the sunshine after rain._

—Barry Cornwall

* * *

Chapter 21

Lisette did not feel entirely well nor did she feel exactly welcome or have any sense of where she fit in on her first week aboard The Elinor. There was a new routine to get used to on this ship despite its also being a privateer ship. To begin with she only had the clothes on her back and to come into a situation where her previous circumstances were questioned made it difficult and many on board seemed to view her with suspicion.

The bath had been cold but wonderful and to be able to disrobe entirely, take off her corset—the two ladies had let her have use of the room for an hour—and to wash her body and her hair had been cathartic. Mary had lent her a chemise, a simple and sturdy one, and then Lisette had washed her clothes as well. Neither lady had many spare clothes and Anna, whose surname was de Bourgh, was such a petite creature that her items were too small and Mary was too plump. So Lisette sat for over a day in Mary's chemise and wrapped in a blanket while she waited for her own clothes to dry, hung up in the room; Anna's health did not allow them to open a port window. Lisette could at least, when they were damp, borrow a needle and thread and begin work to repair the tears in the skirt and mend the rips in the elbows on her bodice. A request sent through Mary was answered by one of the midshipmen who brought a scrap of sail cloth that Lisette used to make patches for the bodice. He also brought her a man's linen shirt 'compliments of the captain,' which Lisette set to work tailoring to fit her.

Mary Bacon was sympathetic; she was the sort who is chatty or could be quiet which made her a good companion. Lisette was grateful for her attentions and for allowing Lisette to sleep in her bed those first few days. Lisette insisted on vacating it though, but found the pallet on the floor took up too much room so she had suggested they rig up a hammock that could be hooked up at night but moved out of the way during the day.

Mrs. Anna de Bourgh was a widow, though she did not look old enough to be a widow as she seemed only about twenty-five. She did not share much about her life in England, only that her husband had died more than two years previously and she was in poor health and going to the West Indies because of it. She seemed cautious about Lisette as though she could not believe a lady could survive such an ordeal as captivity at the hands of the corsairs.

When Lisette's clothes were dry and her sewing was done, Lisette looked at her make-shift clothes with concern that she had so little. She wondered about this turn of events and crossing the Atlantic towards the New World. It had been exciting to think about when she was back in Le Havre and hearing fantastic stories woven about going there but she had learned first-hand the difficulties of seeking adventure, learned how many hard lessons there were to tackle when you left and actually _sought_ adventure. Monsieur Dujardin had said her sailing away might be difficult and he had been correct though not in ways either of them could have imagined. She was happy she did not have her emeralds on her as she felt she would be tempted to sell them now. That was one little bit of home she hoped to still be able to retain even if there were further hardships ahead for her.

* * *

It was not until her fifth day on board that she left the ladies' cabin to take meals in the officers' mess with the rest of the other passengers and the officers. The officers' mess was just along that narrow hallway outside their room. Lisette could feel the eyes on her when she finally joined them at table, the passengers' tables. There were men dressed in regular clothes as well the officers.

Polite introductions were made all around and most of the men went back to the task of eating. Lisette sat with Mary and Mrs. de Bourgh at a separate table—the ladies' table—and they ate without much conversation listening as the men's voices drifted over, their lower tones catching her ears as she tried not to remember her evenings on Le Cerf Blanc. She was an unknown entity, and though they may glance in her direction when they felt she was not looking, none of the officers or male passengers addressed her directly.

Lisette supposed it had to be odd to have her show up mid-voyage when everyone else had gotten to know each other when they had all left England together back in July. She looked at the officers who took up two tables: they were engrossed in their own conversations though Midshipman Sharp had briefly caught her eye; he was a youth of sixteen as near as she could tell, tall but as thin as a beanpole. He had grinned at her then turned his attention back to his tablemates.

The table with the male passengers was louder, apparently a more animated conversation going onthere but as she looked up, two of the men glanced at the women and then back at each other and they then stood and approached.

"Ma'am," the older one nodded and then sat down at their one empty chair without an invitation. The younger one bowed a little and then sat down after dragging a chair over from the men's table.

"Mr. Butler in case you forgot," said the first man looking pointedly at Lisette, "welcome aboard, Miss Philips."

"I thank you," answered Lisette who eyed the men and their overly friendly manner. She was not sure if they were close acquaintances with Mary and Mrs. de Bourgh but a quick glance told her that Anna de Bourgh was annoyed to see them seat themselves.

"You seem a pretty, genteel sort of girl," said Mr. Butler. Lisette had no reply to such a comment and hurried to finish her meal. "Where did you grow up?"

She paused, then answered, "Sussex."

"Been up to London much? That is where Arthur and I live. We are attached to the Society of Apothecaries." He puffed his chest out as he leaned back in his chair.

"No, I do not get to London much." The talk at the officer's tables was quieter; they were listening to Mr. Butler.

"We are working to gather specimens for the Chelsea Physic Garden, herbs and plants and such. It means being away from home for months you know." He was an older man and the way he kept looking and referring to the younger man indicated they were related though in appearance they did not look similar.

"Interesting," Lisette was almost finished with her meal.

"If you are from Sussex, perhaps I know your father?" He asked leaning forward with an arm on the table in what seemed to be an attempt to catch her eyes.

"I doubt it," she dismissed him and set her utensils down beside her plate despite not being done with her fish and looked at her companions.

"You are so pretty do you have many sisters? Are they as pretty as you?" Asked the other man, the younger Mr. Butler who appeared in his early twenties. Neither men was remarkable looking, not handsome and with no charm or air even about them.

"No," she said firmly and then, "shall we retire?" to Mrs. de Bourgh and Mary. One of the officers had stood then to speak to the two men and the three women hurried out.

* * *

Mr. Butler did not challenge her with his impertinent questions every evening but Lisette dreaded having to go and sit and eat in the officers' mess most nights. The best plan seemed to be to arrive early for if he finished first he was then far more inclined to pester Lisette with awkward questions.

He had no sense of how improper any of the questions were and the officers were not of the sort to always be handling advances from male passengers towards the female ones; they were more used to managing the crew and running the ship.

Nothing escaped Mr. Butler the elder's observation; he seemed to notice everything that occurred on board and found fault with the smallest details; most of officers seemed to ignore him but he still did not hold his tongue as though he knew the running of a ship better than Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake or the officers or any of the crew.

Once Lisette was on deck and saw him step in to attempt to settle a dispute between two sailors having an argument though he did not come off the better for it and Lieutenant Jenkins had to settle it and pull him out of the altercation. She thought perhaps the sailors might have been letting off steam with such a long voyage and his 'help' had not been needed.

Mr. Butler and his son, Mr. Arthur Butler, were on a naturalist voyage of discovery of sorts. Seeking plants and herbs that had medicinal properties and if left to talk about it, either man could expound on the topic for hours. She was brought to mind of Mr. William Lucas, the son, though somehow Mr. Lucas' focused attention on a topic held far more interest for Lisette than these two men who were forever peppering her with questions she had no wish to answer.

Lisette did not really want to beg off eating as it was one of the few avenues of socializing beyond sitting in the room with Anna and Mary; Lisette had longed for human contact when aboard the corsair's ship. She tried to spend more of an observational role than an active role at mealtimes but she found, so often, she received marked attention from the Mr. Butlers and the English officers did not screen her from their interfere as much as she would wish. Lieutenant Jenkins was in charge, but he was a less active person than she would have hoped.

Mr. Butler threw out question after question at her. How educated she was, had she only been taught by a governess or had she been sent to a school? Had she traveled much? And then he ventured where no one else dared to go and ask questions she simply refused to answer for anyone besides Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake, who had not asked them so blatantly. How did she come to be traveling? How did she come to be captured by pirates? How long was she held? Was it truly awful? Perhaps he got tired of asking and of Lisette putting him off as at the end he had finally asked simply, 'How old are you?' But she refused to answer that question as well.

* * *

Despite the difficult mealtimes life was not unpleasant on board her first few weeks especially with the two women. Mary had accepted her unconditionally the moment she saw Lisette and never found any reason to doubt Lottie Philips.

Mary Bacon was a straight-forward, kind-hearted person who secretly studied or read if she could find the time and had made room for books in her trunk at the expense of clothes. She was devoted to Anna de Bourgh's care which Lisette shared in and it was that care that molded Anna's reluctant opinion of Lisette those first days for she had initially withheld making one at the beginning. But as Lisette's normally high and playful spirits returned, she took on the role of unpaid companion and was even able to cajole Mrs. de Bourgh to walk the deck for fifteen minutes every day which surprised everyone.

More of the women's stories emerged, Anna de Bourgh with her early widowhood, having married a cousin, and of Mary coming to Kent from her home in Hertfordshire—the far West end of Kent from where Lisette herself had resided—to live with Anna in a leased house. Mr. de Bourgh had been the steward of a big estate and been killed while riding on horseback. Lisette heard far more about Mary if they got a chance to be alone, though that was not often. Mary was from a loving family with three sisters, all married, but her father's estate was entailed away and her dowry was small. She had never had not been able to capture a man's heart, so when Catherine, her younger sister, had married a clergyman—for Kitty was just as pretty as the two oldest who had found rich husbands despite their small dowries—Mary had come to live with her distant cousin, Anna.

"For I am the one plain daughter of the four of us. I could not find a young man who would take one thousand pounds a year and a plain face and a wife who likes to read, but I have no regrets," declared Mary with firmness.

Lisette loved Mary; they had similar attitudes and outlooks on life. Lisette was even so bold one day, in a constitutional on deck, to ask Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake for books. It began as a general conversation as he turned to walk with her, and she found he was easier to talk to than she had supposed with his stoic and stern manner, and it led then to a discussion about books.

"I do not suppose you have any books to lend?" She had asked. He did not appear surprised by their spirited conversation or her request. "Just one at a time, but I need some employment for my mind," she had pressed. "And we have so many more days at sea yet."

He led her to his quarters and had at least a dozen and she chose one in particular with Mary Bacon in mind.

* * *

The captain never ate with his officers but always in his quarters but then one night, two weeks after she had joined their company, Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake joined them at table in the officers' mess and he distinctly came to sit with the three women.

The two Butler men and the other two male passengers, Mr. Thompson and Mr. Adams, all eyed the captain with obvious curiosity so Lisette knew his presence there was an uncommon occurrence. They seemed quite interested in listening to the general discussion that the captain was having with his female passengers and for once the pointed questions to Lisette were not hurled at her. But the elder Mr. Butler kept a close ear on the conversation and finally interrupted them. Mr. Butler was the type who simply could not believe there was anything that he does not have an opinion about, and he must hear what others were speaking about so he could comment on it.

"Wait, we did not hear what is you said, what are you speaking of?" He called.

Lisette had not been able to avoid being drawn into a discussion of music when Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake had introduced it though she was wishing to not be so intrigued when Mr. Butler had called out.

The captain had given her the benefit of the doubt that she was a gentleman's daughter with her interest in literature and her ready discussion of music and playing, it seemed to back up his opinion of her though he and his officers had not known, initially, what to make of Miss Philips.

"We have been speaking of music," said Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake looking over at the other table.

"Music? Why would you wish to speak of music?" Asked Mr. Butler.

"Ladies enjoy such a discussion, often it is an accomplishment for genteel ladies, you know, Mr. Butler," and he turned back to the women. Mr. Butler had to think about that.

"Is she to sing for us?" Called out Mr. Butler, "to prove she is genteel?"

Lisette felt no need to do so, it was as if a repeat of that situation with the Huppes that first evening on Le Cerf Blanc where Madame Huppe said it was not possible to have music without accompaniment, that one cannot sing properly without an instrument.

"It is better if one is able to play as well," said the captain, "to accompany her singing," he explained.

"What do you know of playing or singing?" Sneered Mr. Butler the elder, he seemed to think her a fraud and Lisette did not care either way for his opinion. "Prove it."

"I can do both," she answered, "but I do not feel inclined to sing this evening," and then turned back to her tablemates.

"Ah, well then, you are not a genteel lady," he called with a screwed-up expression on his face.

The captain stayed to talk to them until the other male passengers went away and then he too excused himself.

Anna had been pale through supper and Mary kept urging her to eat but her cousin seemed unable to or was reluctant to enjoy her food. The women took Mrs. de Bourgh back to their room, thankful it was just a few short steps away and considered it to be a sleepless night for their charge. She was readied for bed and Mary sat and brushed Anna's hair with endless strokes to help soothe her.

"Lottie you said at supper that you were musical—that you could sing?" Asked Mrs. de Bourgh looking from her chair to where Lisette sat on Mary's bed watching the pair.

Lisette had not intended to sing again; she thought of all the singing she had done on Le Cerf Blanc. She thought about her tormentor whose name she never knew who called her Ray-of-Sun and she thought it was not so much her face as it was her voice that turned men's heads to her with methodical deliberation. Lisette nodded, though with a reluctance to prove it. "Yes I can sing."

"Could you sing for me? Perhaps it will help me to sleep." Mary helped Anna de Bourgh to bed and then Lisette sang her a soft gentle song and the room grew quiet and comfortable. Lisette moved from Mary's bed and indicated that Mary should retire which she did quickly while Lisette unfolded her hammock and crawled into it. She then considered 'in for a penny, in for a pound,' and sang a lullaby in French as she swayed there in the dark and her voice echoed around the room and perhaps carried through the thin wood walls.

Mrs. de Bourgh said she slept exceptionally well the next morning, and Lisette began to lull her to sleep every night thereafter with song. She hoped her songs did not really penetrate the walls to the uncouth Mr. Butlers' accommodations but they did not mention the fact at mealtimes, at least.

* * *

That first sleepless night he had reviewed in an endless stream their disastrous conversation together. It was as if the devil had bewitched his tongue in her presence and muddled his brain and he said naught of his love for her when her songs had been full of her love for him.

'When with mutual inclination, two fond hearts in one unite,'

And 'je t'aime, par les cieux.'

'I love you' she had sung and he had said nothing of his own love for her. Just of his desire for her to marry him. He had not argued his case but he seemed to have argued against himself, giving her reasons to not consider his proposal when all he had wanted to do was to hold her in his arms and kiss her. He had often thought of kissing her—there had been so many moments in the more than two weeks that she had been on board his ship when he had wanted to kiss her. Those exceptional evenings had been so special he had been distracted, desirous of kissing her to an extent he had never known. D'Arcy had come to not trust himself to truly be able to escort her to her accommodations some nights.

She loved him but she would not marry him, 'I think I cannot,' she had replied. Words that had pained and angered him. He had been certain she was waiting for him to speak and would fall in his arms that evening and he had been surprised by her hesitancy. He thought Elisabetta a willing partner in their evenings together, that she enjoyed his company, that she returned his love. Given the little cues he had collected about her he had assumed she was poor, the farce about servants and luggage had been just that but he had been willing to overlook that and to offer her his name and his status. Why? Why had she rejected his offer of marriage? He had not slept that night considering everything he knew about her, what was her background that she could not marry him, was she so ashamed of her past? Was she already married? That was a painful idea.

His sleepless night meant he had not been up at the quarterdeck by the wheel as was his usual place every morning so he had been caught off-guard by the corsairs that morning and been unable to attempt to outmaneuver or out-man them though they outnumbered him with their five ships and outgunned him with their canons.

He was worried that he had endangered her life by having her on board since that first day, her appearance on his gangplank and he would never forgive himself for not being able to prevent her capture. A captain's biggest responsibility was to his passengers and he had failed with both Elisabetta and with the Huppes. When Le Cerf Blanc had reached Lisbon he had so much to do, speaking with government authorities and reporting the attack and the kidnapping. He had the Huppe's luggage put into storage for whenever their relatives or friends secured their release. D'Arcy kept Elisabetta's small store of items himself; it was such a small set of items for a lady. Truly he could not understand her; she acted like a lady and yet had only a saddlebag's worth of possessions.

He also had to see to his men, they had been equally incensed with her kidnapping, mutinying against the corsairs when they had bound Elisabetta and taken her off the ship. Severin had leaped forward as though to single-handedly rescue her and taken a bullet in the shoulder. Others had suffered knife wounds before order had been restored, an illusion of order, for the corsairs who then left; left him his ship and his crew, but had taken the best goods from his hold and taken his passengers hostage, and taken his Elisabetta from him.

In Lisbon he sent notes to his father and to the Trinitarian Society to work to release Elisabetta from the Algerian corsairs but D'Arcy had despaired at how long it would be before he would see her, or if ever he would see her. He felt like he could understand his cousin more fully then—to lose someone you love—his cousin's wife had died in childbirth, as a small part of him knew that they did not treat women, especially young women, well. D'Arcy had to consider he might never see her again.

He had always wanted to be a privateer; to sail and make his money that way. His English cousin who was over five years his senior had shown him the ropes once he had left school. It was not what Théophile D'Arcy had imagined for his son. The silver-tongued diplomat had wished for his son, Gauthier D'Arcy, to follow in his footsteps and join him at the French court, to move through society making a name for himself and choosing and charming a diplomatic post just as the senior D'Arcy had done. But Gauthier D'Arcy was not made from the same mold as his father. While he had a strong sense of family, the son was quieter and not motivated by the same desire for accolades from the French court or the French government. Having spent long summers by the sea with his English cousins he wanted to sail and to see the world.

Gauthier D'Arcy had begged his father for the money to set himself up with a ship of his own. His father purchased an older Portuguese-built ship but Théophile D'Arcy gave his son ten years to prove himself but then Gauthier had to try his hand at diplomacy for a year in exchange for the purchase of that ship. The younger D'Arcy had been successful, very successful, in trade but he had his obligation to his father which he was meeting now. In some ways it was odd as Marcel, his younger brother, showed signs that he was ready to step into their father's shoes as he had inherited that same silver-tongue and had a strong ambition to do as their father wished.

D'Arcy had been given orders to tackle issues of piracy. He had first dealt with negotiating with some Moroccan corsairs and had a small success, but his attempts to even begin discussions with the Algerian corsairs had fallen flat. And it was the Algerian corsairs—who were not at all organized in any hierarchical way—who were the largest threat. They were a disparate set of pirates, independent of each other, but lethal in what they did. D'Arcy felt it a losing battle to attempt to even begin negotiations with what the French government eyed as one large entity but D'Arcy knew they should be viewed as separate spokes of a larger wheel.

Tackling piracy in the New World was to be his final duty. Once he wrapped up the business in Lisbon he was to sail to the New World and attempt to deal with negotiating with the Spanish authorities in New Orleans about a joint venture in tackling local piracy that benefited both the French and the Spanish. It had been a little over fifteen years since the Louisiana territory had changed hands but local piracy affected all nations and he hoped that the long history of French influence in New Orleans meant there would be wide sympathy for these negotiations.

He had heard positive things about the new governor: Esteban Rodríguez Miró who worked well with Spain in negotiating terms for New Orleans and Louisiana that benefitted both the territory and Spain. D'Arcy considered the governor would be an easy man to negotiate with and reasonable in wishing to tackle piracy as rumors were local piracy was especially bad between West Florida and New Orleans.

It was with reluctance that he left some men behind in hospital in Lisbon; letters were sent off to begin the work of securing Elisabetta's release, but with little hope of her ransom being negotiated in less than six months, and he and his crew sailed for the New World.


	22. Chapter 22

_Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,  
Smiles await you when you rise;  
Sleep, pretty wantons, do not cry,  
And I will sing a lullaby._

 _Care you know now  
therefore sleep,  
While I o'er you watch do keep;  
Sleep pretty darlings, do not cry,  
And I will sing a lullaby._

* * *

Chapter 22

It seemed as though there was no change in the difference of the sea but Lisette had been assured they were nearing their goal. She had to consider what she would do, whether to stay with Mrs. de Bourgh and Mary for Anna had offered to keep her on when they reached the West Indies, or to stay and continue on board The Elinor and return to England. She had bouts of deep homesickness though she was unable to share that with her friends because of the made-up tale of her past so she kept them bottled inside and indulged in them only when she woke in the dark in the middle of the night. She missed her mother and wondered what life at Longbourn entailed with no daughters and a disappointed husband who had no grand wedding for her to the peacock that was his heir. It was difficult to think of her grand-mère with her poor health and she hoped to see her again; somehow she assumed her crotchety old grandfather Bennet would still scratch along with his books and his small staff and his complaints. Lisette knew that the fat orange cat would be perfectly content.

Her thoughts turned to her friends on Le Cerf Blanc and she wondered how they made out, Severin and Le Fevre, her Breton sailors, the three card-playing officers from those merry evenings of games and song on the ship, on his ship, Captain D'Arcy's. She wondered where on the globe they were—how near to her in this ship, The Elinor, they were and how did they fare? Did they think of her and wonder at her fate? Had they done anything to secure her release from the corsairs? What did Captain D'Arcy think of her? Did he still love her or had he forgotten her like she suspected Gérard had forgotten about her despite his kisses and his declaration and that hand on his heart as she had walked away.

* * *

One day, with the finest weather they were likely to have, she and Mary had Mrs. de Bourgh's arms secure in theirs for a fifteen minute constitutional. Mrs. de Bourgh stopped in the aft, near the captain's quarters.

"Do sing for me Lottie, while I enjoy a bit of sun," and Anna said it with such longing and with such pleasure at the prospect that Lisette could not deny her. She sang a simple country song but a happy and playful one.

The women were used to her songs but there was a certain stillness around them when she finished and Lisette looked at the crew and even at one of the officers, Lieutenant A. Jones. She could not help but think 'I cannot hide being Ray-of-Sun.'

If she sang to Anna de Bourgh on deck, Anna would stay outside longer so it became a habit for Lisette to sing there and somehow the number of crewman would increase as the days went on. It was inevitable then that Mr. Butler, the elder, would make a comment about her singing one evening at their joint meal.

"You have certainly surprised us, little miss, with that big voice of yours," he said over his tablemates to her.

Lieutenant Jenkins stood suddenly from his own table to stand between the two passenger tables. "You will address her properly, Mr. Butler. Please ensure you call her, Miss Philips, and extend her every curtesy a lady deserves."

The man looked taken aback. "I was simply complimenting her on her singing," he cried.

"We have all enjoyed her singing," Lieutenant Jenkins turned to Lisette, "compliments from the entire crew, Miss Philips, for we enjoy our daily serenade," and he turned back to Mr. Butler, "please ensure you keep a civil tongue, Sir."

* * *

One afternoon Lisette noticed far fewer crewmen on deck as the three women paraded and she sang. The next day there seemed even fewer men on deck and after returning Mrs. de Bourgh to the comfort of their room she went back up to the deck to look again and could see then, when she was particularly looking for them, that there _were_ less crewmen than normally were busy with their duties on deck. It was not as if she felt she was losing her abilities, Lisette felt more of a sinister concern for the smaller number of sailors. She made her way to the captain's quarters and knocked. Midshipman Webb answered with a surprised look on his face and she applied to see the captain and was brought to him.

"Miss Philips," said Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake and again a tea cup was waiting for her which she sat and took.

"Captain, I came to inquire about your crew. Has something occurred? For it seems there are fewer of them on deck these past few days."

He looked at her with his stoic and stern face revealing nothing. She sipped her tea.

"We have had many men fall ill with a bad fever but it is nothing you need concern yourself about, however, given Mrs. de Bourgh's health, she might find it best to keep to her cabin," he replied.

"Yes, of course," she sipped again. "If there is anything Miss Bacon or I can do to help please let us know. I am perfectly willing to lend a hand especially if I can help earn my passage."

"I would not ask you to nurse my sailors," said Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake his brows knitting together.

"In some other capacity, roll bandages or chop carrots?" She smiled.

"I will hope I should not have to ask you to prepare meals," he smiled for an instant as though she had made a joke when she was being sincere.

Mrs. de Bourgh kept to the room then but Lisette continued to traverse the deck.

* * *

Both middies came to her and asked if she would sing for the sick crew and she agreed. She looked at them—in looks they were unlike Severin and Le Fevre, their equivalents on Le Cerf Blanc—they were both tall, thin and blond but they had the same youthful enthusiasm the aspirants had.

She followed them to the forecastle of The Elinor and down a ladder in the deck to a section she had not been to before. They said the crew's quarters were below, down another set of ladders but she could be heard just fine from the little room where she and the middies stood. Lisette sang a half dozen songs for the sick crew in that little space before crawling back up on deck.

She supposed they had asked her without obtaining permission as she would have done but if there were truly that many sick crewmen and she could help a little she was happy to be doing something. Lisette assumed her venture to serenade the sick crew was well known as a number of officers eyed her at the evening meal with friendly smiles as though they were secretly pleased with her actions.

* * *

Lisette woke the next morning feeling stiff and with a sore throat and chills as though her blankets had fallen from her but the scratchy woolen blankets still lay wrapped around her. She hoped if she was ill that it was to be short-lived and closed her eyes and returned to sleep.

She woke much later with her eyes reluctant even to be pulled open but the chills that raced down her spine shook her awake. She had no idea of the time but fumbled from her hammock.

"Lottie? You have been ill, stay where you are. Shall I bring you something to drink?" Cried Mary from a chair.

Lisette rocked where she stood. It seemed to take a few moments for her to comprehend Mary's words.

"No, yes, I am thirsty," she answered.

Mary helped her to sit on her own bed. Mrs. de Bourgh was lying down, napping, apparently, as it was daylight outside. Mary brought Lisette a cup to sip from and Lisette drank. A hand came to gingerly touch her on the forehead.

"You are burning up," said Mary. "You should lie down again. Take my bed," she began to pull up the neatly tucked-in covers on the bed. Lisette rocked back to her feet; the empty cup fell to the floor.

"No," Lisette croaked, "I cannot. I must not get you and Anna sick," and Lisette lurched to reach her hammock then clasped it to sway there. She then stepped to the door, opened it and made it to the bottom of those narrow stairs before she collapsed.

* * *

Once or twice she woke and was cognizant that she was back in a hammock but she realized that she was in a different room. There was a port window to show day and night and a table that took up most of the room and shelves of paper but Lisette was never conscious enough to truly note her surroundings in the chart room. A hand and a voice brought her water and she would settle back down to sleep.

Lisette did not recall much else.

* * *

She had a vivid dream of being on Le Cerf Blanc and of singing with her sailors in Breton and them looking up at her with their bright blue eyes and of the comradery of playing at cards in the evening, her three companions, even the recalcitrant friendship of Lieutenant Carbonneau, of the joy and realization that perhaps she was in love with Captain D'Arcy during those evenings when she and he walked out together on the deck and stopped to talk, and of singing to him in English, then of his proposal and her rejection of it. Her dream then switched to a nightmare and she recalled screaming and the corsairs coming to take her away and her crying 'no, no, no, no, I do not want to go,' and her misery at being pulled from that season of happiness that she had felt on Le Cerf Blanc and realizing how much she _was_ in love with Gauthier D'Arcy, deeply in love.

Lisette woke, reaching up, and felt tears on her cheeks. She also realized she was nestled between linen sheets a sensation she had not experienced for a long time. She was not in her hammock with her wool blankets on top of her and she looked out and saw Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake sitting on a chair with a book on his lap; he seemed to have heard her movement and looked over at her and caught her surprise and shock that she was ensconced in his bed.

"Do not be alarmed," he said as he put his book down though he did not approach her, "you have been quite ill."

She nodded as her dream continued to fade though she let it go with reluctance.

"You have been crying," he said looking at her face his eyes dancing over it taking in the tears, the darkness under her eyes, the mouth open as she was a little out of breath.

"I cried out?" She asked.

"You did cry out, yes, but you have been crying in your sleep," his face was calm.

She thought then about the nightmare portion of her feverish dreams, having to relive being taken by the corsairs and being dragged off of the ship as she protested and of her calling out to D'Arcy to save her. She wiped a few more tears from her eyes.

"I woke to hear you through the chart room walls," he explained, "you were feverish and I did not wish to disturb Miss Bacon; you were hot and tangled and shivering so I brought you in here." It was a simple and straight-forward explanation.

She nodded again.

He moved his chair a little closer while she adjusted her position. "It has been difficult for you, I can tell, to have been taken by the corsairs," he said, his stern face gone, showing a softness she had never seen, "I believe you left friends behind. You kept saying 'I do not want to go' but you said it not as though you were afraid—you said it as though you were leaving loved ones behind." He could have been a Frenchman the way he expressed himself just then, with a great deal of sympathy for her, no longer her captain, more her friend.

"Yes, that is true," her hand came down from her cheeks to pluck at the covers.

"I am sorry it has been so difficult," he hesitated then, "you mentioned a name: D'Arcy."

She blanched and drew up the covers a little more because she did not wish to speak about le capitaine D'Arcy.

"There is a French privateer captain, Gauthier D'Arcy, is that who you mean? Were on Le Cerf Blanc?" He asked gently. And tears came again and she nodded.

"Yes, I was on Captain D'Arcy's ship and it came to such a poor end," her hand was back wiping at those tears, pinching the bridge of her nose as a distraction.

He was gentle and made soothing noises, and he came to sit beside her on the bed, to smile at her, no impropriety meant at all.

"It was a difficult time with the corsairs for you," he repeated, maintaining that soft voice.

"It ended so badly," she replied, wiping fiercely at her eyes then looking up, "he, Captain D'Arcy, asked me to marry him and I said no and the next day the corsairs came." She looked at him next to her with tears pooling to then trickle down her cheeks and she gave over trying to stop them or wipe them away. "I did not tell him that I loved him because he did not tell me that he loved me," she explained through her tears, "but I think I do, love him," she continued.

That was news he had not expected, he had thought she was upset because of her trials with the pirates and not that she was upset because of unrequited love.

He looked as though he was not prepared for this conversation. He had heard her calling out in the chart room, a feverish and sick lady in a freezing cold room. He wished then that he had woken Mary Bacon and asked Mary to tend to her. It did not seem then that her time with the corsairs was so much at issue as she was in love with Captain D'Arcy. Perhaps Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake also cared enough for her that he did not wish to hear she loved Captain D'Arcy.

"Did you know, ma'am, that Gauthier D'Arcy and I are cousins?" He ventured.

And then she looked at him with widened eyes and it stopped her tears and she thought about what she had told him, the half-truths and she gulped. Lisette realized they really were lies that she had told to Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake. To him she was Lottie Philips, orphaned, and a run-away, and to Captain D'Arcy she was Elisabetta Trento and if ever they should meet she would be exposed. At least in Dieppe she had still been Lisette Bennet. Perhaps she was not as good at game-playing as she thought she was.

"He did not speak of his family, only his brother and his English mother and his diplomat father," she said.

"That is far more than he usually shares, he usually never speaks of his family," said the captain.

"Why?"

"His father re-married after his mother, my aunt, died, and though he loves his brother, he is not one to speak of his family. He is a captain and needs to maintain command; he does not normally reveal personal details about himself." He sat back, moved a little ways away from her on the bed. Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake did not seem inclined to ask intimate questions about her and D'Arcy. She recalled that he had never revealed personal details about himself. Lisette did not know if Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake was married even, though she suspected he was not. He was well past thirty and she wondered why he was not married.

"It has been a difficult journey for me to leave my home and to try to find a new one," and she left it at that without explaining why she had rejected D'Arcy's proposal when she loved him.

"Sleep then and recover," and he went back to his chair and his book.

She lay there for many minutes and watched his progress. So many half-truths, she had told so many lies about herself.

"Captain?" Lisette called and he looked up from his book.

"Yes?" He said.

"I sang…," she began and then faltered, playing again with the coverlet and not looking at him.

"You sang?" He asked his captain's mask was back.

"On the corsair ship," it was more difficult to explain than she supposed. An image of the hold came before her and the feeling of that rope seemed to snake around her but then her tune came back as though to help shield her though she could not help the tears. Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake came back to sit next to her with his soft eyes though his face was its stoic mask.

"Miss Philips, you do not…," he began but she shook away her tears as she struggled to sit up.

"On the corsair ship I sang for my ransom," she looked up at him and then away, across the room. "I wanted…I needed to do what I could to get my captor to let me go," she paused and looked at her wrists. "Captain D'Arcy could not prevent my being taken; I had to do what I could to get off that ship." He listened with intensity to her tale.

"Every evening, I sang a different song. Sometimes he, my captor, asked me questions about my family and who would ransom me, but every night I sang and I hoped and I prayed it would be enough, the _last_ song, and he would let me go." She looked back at him. "And he never said it was good enough, just one morning Raïs came to say I was to be let go," she dissolved back down then into the bed with tears spilling down her cheeks to pool on the coverlet and a hand then did attempt to staunch their flow, to hide her eyes.

"Sleep, Miss Philips, sleep," he urged and he ventured so far as to reach over and briefly clasp her hand in his and held it with firmness before releasing it.

She nestled down in the large bed to sleep and recover and thought of D'Arcy's big bed with a blush. When she woke she was in her hammock in the chart room and felt refreshed; there was a knock on the door by Lieutenant Jenkins who needed charts and looked worried and said a storm, a serious storm was coming. He grabbed some items and hurried out.


	23. Chapter 23

_Cease, rude Boreas, blust'ring railer!  
List, ye landsmen, all to me!  
Messmates, hear a brother sailor  
Sing the dangers of the sea;  
From bounding billows, fast in motion,  
When the distant whirlwinds rise,  
To the tempest-troubled ocean,  
Where the seas contend with skies!_

 _Hark! The boatswain hoarsely bawling,  
By topsail-sheets and haul-yards stand!  
Down top-gallants quick be hauling;  
Down your stay-sails, hand, boys, hand!  
Now it freshens, set the braces,  
Quick the topsail-sheets let go;  
Luff, boys luff! 'don't make wry faces,  
Up your topsails nimbly clew._

 _Now all you on down-beds sporting,  
Fondly lock'd in beauty's arms;  
Fresh enjoyments wanton courting,  
Safe from all but love's alarms;  
Round us roars the tempest louder;  
Think what fear our minds enthralls,  
Harder yet, it yet blows harder,  
Now again the boatswain calls!_

 _The topsail yards point to the wind, boys,  
See all clear to reef each course;  
Let the fore-sheet go, don't mind boys,  
Though the weather should be worse.  
Fore and aft the sprit-sail yard get,  
Reef the mizen, see all clear;  
Hands up, each preventure-brace set,  
Man the fore-yard, cheer, lads, cheer?_

 _Now the dreadful thunder's roaring,  
Peal on peal contending clash,  
On our head fierce rain falls pouring,  
In our eyes blue lightings flash.  
One wide water all around us,  
All above us black sky,  
Different deaths at once surround us:  
Hark! What means that dreadful cry?_

 _The foremast's gone, cries every tongue out,  
O'er the lee, twelve feet 'bove deck;  
A leak beneath the chest-tree's sprung out,  
Call all hands to clear the wreck.  
Quick the lanyards cut to pieces:  
Come, my hearts, be stout and bold:  
Plumb the well—the leak increases,  
Four feet water in the hold!_

 _While o'er the ship wild waves are beating,  
We for wives or children mourn;  
Alas! from hence there's no retreating,  
Alas! to them there's no return.  
Still the leak is gaining on us:  
Both chain-pumps are chok'd below—  
Heav'n have mercy here upon us!  
For only that can save us now._

 _O'er the lee-beams is the land, boys,  
Let the guns o'erboard be thrown;  
To the pump let every hand, boys;  
See! Our mizen-mast is gone.  
The leak we've found, it cannot pour fast,  
We've lighten'd her a foot or more;  
Up, and rig a jury foremast,  
She rights, she rights! Boys—we're off shore._

 _Now once more on joys we're thinking,  
Since kind Heav'n has sav'd our lives;  
Come, the can, boys! let's be drinking  
To our sweethearts and our wives.  
Fill it up, about ship wheel it,  
Close to our lips a brimmer join;  
Where's the tempest now—who feels it?  
None—the danger's drown'd in wine._

— _George Alexander Stevens_

* * *

Chapter 23

Lisette felt recovered enough the next morning to return to her shared room and she gathered her few belongings from the chart room. Lieutenant Jenkins had rigged her hammock there—there was not sufficient space for a pallet on the floor as there was a built-in table and cubbies full of maps and charts above and drawers below—but it had been the only appropriate space that Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake had deemed sufficient to move her to since only he and Lieutenant Jenkins had a key to it. She could not have been put in the hold with the rest of the crew.

The approaching storm worried the entire crew and soon it was learned that they had to change their course from Nassau in the West Indies and to head further south to the Antilles, to the island of St. Kitts as it was feared that the storm would develop into a hurricane. Mrs. de Bourgh was distressed at the news of such a storm and of their being rerouted from her destination. Mary and Lisette's time was spent in attempting to distract her though it seemed as though there was little they could do. Anna de Bourgh remained pale and listless and faded in body and spirit with her destination taken from her grasp. Mary expressed real concern about Mrs. de Bourgh's health taking a turn for the worse and admitted to Lisette that she felt useless, as though the trip had been in vain.

Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake was worried and distracted, the crew was all on edge and everyone wore grim faces and the wet and windy deck was no longer an option for exercise or relief. Lisette could tell that the storm must be dangerous. She realized their peril in being on a ship at sea; the captain and his men strove to push the ship as fast as possible to outrun it and to move outside of its path as they headed to the island of St. Kitts and at last they had it in their sights. For the first time in a month the crew of The Elinor saw land though for Lisette, who had spent a further five weeks on board the corsair ship it had been more than two months since she had viewed land.

She and Mary went ashore, with an escort of the two midshipmen, and Lisette felt dizzy as she walked on solid ground as though the land was swaying back and forth with the sea holding steady as she looked out at it from the Basseterre harbor. She laughed with her companions that she needed to find her landlegs now after so much time at sea.

Lisette and Mary shopped for some necessities while their young escorts attempted to not be bored—their desire to run off and see as much of the city of Basseterre was evident, it was a new port for them. Lisette needed clothes and ready-made ones were beyond her coin but cloth was not, so she and Mary picked out cloth to fabricate into clothing for Lisette; cotton was a by-product of the area.

By design they were to spend days at any particular port, according to the Mr. Butlers, but Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake was in a hurry to replenish their supplies and their water—and to not engage in trade or for the Butlers to hunt for specimens—and to press on to Kingston, Jamaica which was also a British holding and which might prove a safer harbor as he still feared the storm would still hit the Antilles.

* * *

It was as they were sailing between St. Kitts and Jamaica that Anna took a turn for the worse. Her health, Mrs. de Bourgh admitted, had never been good but she had had such hopes that the sunny weather of the West Indies would cure her. The Elinor's turning from her ultimate goal and the cold, cruel wind that blew at them and the bouts of rain from the storm seemed to pull her down into a depression and made her symptoms increase. Her breathing seemed to be painful as though that wind that battered the ship was sucking it away.

Lisette and Mary read to her and fed her broths send from the cook and rubbed her temples to relieve her headaches but nothing seemed to stave off her decline. Anna began to cough up blood and spoke of her chest feeling leaden and even her whole trunk feeling heavy which seemed odd since she was so small and frail. Lisette continued to sing to her at night and even her best lullabies were no longer able to soothe her as she would wake up hot and feverish and Mary would help her to change her clothes and they would put her back in her bed and sing or read her to sleep again.

Lisette remembered the one sailor, Bill Perry, who had succumbed to the fever that had run through the crew and how he had been sewn up in sail cloth and his body had been dumped at sea. She wondered if that was to be Mrs. de Bourgh's fate, to die at sea, and be buried there as well. Lisette's seeking adventure had been supposed to be fun and merry. The idea of meeting and growing close to an acquaintance and then parting with them in such a manner had never formed a part of that plan; she was thankful for Mary Bacon's solid presence as they nursed Anna de Bourgh and as the ship raced to Kingston in an attempt to find harbor before the storm caught them.

* * *

In Kingston, Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake and a select portion of his crew and officers were to remain on board The Elinor at anchor in the harbor but that was, apparently, no guarantee that the ship would remain at anchor in the face of hurricane-generated winds; the ship still could be ripped from its moorings and be swept out to sea. The rest of the men were housed in local taverns and inns to weather the storm as they may; probably at drink, Lisette imagined, after a month at sea and only drinking the weak ale that was kept on board.

The city of Kingston was home to a large population of people, over 25,000, though she understood that more than half of them were African slaves. There were, perhaps, a thousand buildings in the city and Lisette had been surprised that a city in the New World could be so large and settled. St. Kitts had also surprised her; the simple fact that men had found those small islands and worked to settle them and build them up, found employment and trade astonished her.

The captain personally saw that the three women were escorted off of the ship and into town to take refuge at an inn. It felt so luxurious to be in a room and for each of them to have a bed. She and Mary and Mrs. de Bourgh settled into their room and listened as the storm howled around them, they had arrived just in time.

The two companions stood shoulder to shoulder at the shuttered window and listened to the sounds outside and wondered at the ferocity of the storm. The light had been taken out of the sky by the storm though it was yet the early afternoon and they could see nothing through the closed and bolted shutters though they let in all the sounds of whispering and howling and caterwauling as though a multitude of different choruses were outside all singing off-key. It was unlike anything either of them had ever experienced. The English speak of the weather all the time and it rains a great deal but there was nothing in England to compare to the fury of the sounds of the hurricane outside their window which they could not see and could only hear and _that_ fact seemed to make it so much worse. The air changed as well: before it had been pressing down on them, the wind, forcing them to reach Kingston in time, but now it backed off as though taking a lid up off of a pan on the boil.

Mrs. de Bourgh started coughing again and they went to Anna to help her to sit up and to make her comfortable. Lisette attempted to sing for her but her voice was drowned out by that cacophony of sounds outside. It mattered not to Mrs. de Bourgh who closed her eyes again in rest. And so went their afternoon and on into the evening, blasts of sounds came at them from all around and there was no escaping them and they dutifully tended their charge and did their best with the screaming weather.

Lisette lay awake through the night, listening for any distress from Anna de Bourgh but mostly listening to the sounds of the hurricane. Her tune had crept into her head and swirled around as though it swirled with a force equal to those winds which seemed to want to push into the cracks of the windows or come in under the door and to grab at them like that corsair had slung her over his back. Yet, it was _her_ tune and she thought about it, took charge of it, humming it and molding it then, giving it some rhythm and form. She had certainly added to it over the course of her travels and Lisette felt that she was close to finishing it now. It was missing a final line or two.

As the middle of the night approached, the building groaned and shook and the wind began to scream as if a woman injured or wronged and the three ladies huddled together as they listened. The floor vibrated beneath them. Popping and cracking came from every corner and they feared that the building would collapse beneath them. Mary asked if they should head downstairs but they remained where they were, huddled together now in one single bed. There were no more sounds of rain, though Lisette supposed there must be rain, only the absorbing and overwhelming sound of the wind as it battered their building and they clutched together in each other's arms.

* * *

They woke to the sounds of rain and of lighter wind; Lisette and Mary were both amazed that they had slept. Mrs. de Bourgh lay pale and still and tepid as though a cup of tea forgotten. She coughed and blood came up. Mary rested her hand on Anna's forehead.

"You are not feverish, but since we are in port shall we see if we can find an apothecary or physician?" Inquired Mary. Mrs. de Bourgh nodded.

"I will go," said Lisette who rose from their communal bed. Mrs. de Bourgh looked pale beyond anything she had ever seen.

Lisette made her way from the room and downstairs to find the innkeeper. It seemed eerily quiet—though there were sounds of rain and wind—compared to the fury that had pounded them through the night. There was no one below in the small common room and Lisette went to the door to open it to the day.

Debris lay outside: roof tiles and vegetation, sticks, tree limbs, garbage, a wagon wheel all lay immediately in the street before her folded against whatever would catch it: an outcropping of a building, the stone stoop of a door. Lisette had seen garbage piled up in cities before—that was an unfortunate consequence of people living so closely together—but this was nature piling her own detritus on top of people's.

"Miss, it is too dangerous to go out still," said a voice behind her. Lisette turned to see the innkeeper with a broom in his hand. She wondered what he was sweeping up; she wondered that he did not check on his guests either as they had huddled in their room and frowned at him then.

"One of my companions is ill; is there an apothecary nearby?" She asked.

"Yes, Miss, four streets over on Temple Lane," he answered.

"Please send someone to fetch him," she said in her best imitation of Mrs. Bennet.

"I have no one to send just now, they are helping to clear the damage," he replied.

"Then tell me where to go," said Lisette.

"It is not safe," he argued again.

"I must do something for my friend, four streets over you say?" And she went to the door. "Left or right?"

"Left," he clipped, "and then just down from the corner." Apparently he was not going to argue with her about leaving with the rain and the wind still beating down outside or go himself.

Lisette walked out and headed left as instructed; she dodged around such an immense amount of debris piled in such a fashion that she could not imagine the transformation from the mostly clear streets of a city to a garbage heap now. She was soaked through within the first block but kept to her task, counted to the fourth street, and though there were no street names looked and saw the marking on a door and knocked.

A servant opened the door and Lisette was crushed to find that the apothecary was not available having been called to treat an injured man. She supposed the weather must have created many injuries, perhaps some deaths. She left her details at the St. Jerome's Inn and made her way back. There was a dead animal, a cat she supposed, flung against the steps of one house and she noticed another still form up a side street, a dog she thought, as she walked back to the inn in the rain and with the wind whipping at her skirts.

Mary's eyes told a frightening story when she entered and Lisette could see that Mrs. de Bourgh looked worse, gray and listless, not moving or noticing Lisette's approach. Lisette could only shake her head and say her errand had been unsuccessful.

"She asked for a vicar as well," whispered Mary.

"I am wet already," answered Lisette. She could not find that innkeeper a second time though she yelled for him. There had been the signs of a church spire in the center part of the town when they had first headed to the inn the previous day and Lisette retraced her steps from her earlier errand and one street farther down was a larger avenue and she looked up it to see a large church.

A dim-witted man with a broom was the only occupant of the church—an Anglican church—he had been charged with clearing debris from inside and did not seem inclined to stop and help her, but after repeating her errand many times Lisette finally made herself understood and he led her to the vicarage where Reverend Dixon's attentions were secured.

Mrs. de Bourgh was glad to see Lisette and that this mission was successful and that the Reverend Dixon had come to sit and pray with her. It was what Anna most wished for as she lay dying and Lisette was able to step away and consider then what it would mean for Mary Bacon to have her benefactress pass away. Lisette decided then that she would return to England with Mary. She knew that Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake had one more stop in the Caribbean and then the ship would turn and cross back over the Atlantic and return home.

Lisette also decided that she would tell Mary her whole story and she could no longer deal in half-truths. She thought about the mess she had gotten herself into with her half-truths—those lies. She admitted to herself they were lies as she watched Anna's body waste away with the Reverend Dixon beside her. At one point Lisette had thought the lies would shield her in some way from her father and her past but they had only created complexities. They were also making her feel less herself, instead of finding adventure, she was losing herself, losing Lisette, in a way, and she needed to rectify that; recognize what was important: friendship and love. She had no way of finding love again; she did not wish to love anyone else but Captain D'Arcy but she had the companionship of Mary Bacon.

Lisette would return to England with Mary and find some occupation. Perhaps if she was honest about herself her life would come to a happier end. It would be difficult to share some parts of her story about Captain D'Arcy and the corsairs but they were as much a part of her now as being half-French or growing up in Kent.

That evening Mrs. de Bourgh simply stopped breathing, it was as if the storm cleared and took her away with it.

There was a multitude of things to do and there were things that Lisette had never considered, death duties and funeral expenses to be paid. It was all irregular with Mary Bacon being a companion though at least she had been a cousin so there was the assumption that she was the heir to all of Mrs. de Bourgh's belongings which included the money she had brought to start that new life in the New World; so Mary had access to it and was able to pay for all of these unforeseen costs.

Lisette was pleased that they had the help of Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake and also pleased that the stay in Kingston was not just one or two days but he planned to stay at least a week as he needed to make some repairs to the ship which had survived the hurricane but with a little damage.

Anna de Bourgh was buried in Kingston, Jamaica though she had been born in Kent and was not to be buried next to her husband back home in England. Mary and Lisette wept a great deal for her. The crew, especially the officers of The Elinor, helped to see to her funeral and they finally set sail for Pensacola in West Florida which was to be their last stop in the New World before they turned for England.

* * *

Lisette had a great deal of sewing to do on that trip to West Florida. She had that cotton cloth she had purchased in St. Kitts to make clothes with but there had not been much time to sew because Anna de Bourgh had been so ill. But now she and Mary kept to their rooms to sew and to speak and to share as friends so often do in grieving over a loss.

It was also there that Lisette braved sharing with Mary her true tale. It was a difficult task to do. Revealing all your cards, showing on your face what was in your hand was not in her nature. She had been so used to playing a role and wearing it like a garment and then taking it off to put it away. It took a number of days to truly reveal herself to her friend and Mary was not the suspicious type. She had not suspected Lisette of not being who she claimed: Lottie Philips. If Mary was hurt that she had been deceived, however, she did not say so.

For a day or two Mary was aloof after Lisette had finished her story. Mary still loved her friend but her own background, with her father's estate entailed away and her small dowry made her the sort who was always a bit cautious around those who had grown up with easy access to money. Though they might both be gentleman's daughters their experiences had been quite different. But Mary realized that none of that mattered; after a month together in close quarters she knew her friend. Mary's life had been a happy life and she was not one to be resentful. Mary was ever grounded in finding contentment before her: her friends, quiet employments and books.

* * *

When Lisette first escaped the corsair ship and came to be a passenger on The Elinor the busyness of those first weeks, her relief at her escape, wholly unharmed, had been what occupied her mind. Then Lisette had been called on to be a companion and a friend. But it was her own illness and that late night conversation with Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake that stirred up suppressed feelings for Captain D'Arcy. She thought of all she knew of love; it was beyond the physical attraction she shared with Gérard. She and Captain D'Arcy shared interests: books and music, their backgrounds similar with being half French and half English; he had even been raised in the Anglican Church by his mother and not raised Catholic like his father. Despite that rocky first day when she feared he might throw her off the ship they had come to find so much in common.

Yet she had no idea where he and his ship and crew were in the world and whether she would ever see him again. He felt like a lost cause.

Lisette was not one of those who gave themselves wholly over to their sorrow by seeking an increased feeling of wretchedness by reflecting on it or resolved against finding any solace to it; she struggled with her feelings, exerted herself and though she might feel melancholy in this season of sorrow she was cheered by the society of Mary Bacon. She could not shut herself off from people or lay awake at night, now that memories of D'Arcy had been rekindled. She had leisure enough during the day to think about Captain D'Arcy in a variety of ways.

Rethinking that final scene on Le Cerf Blanc she gave him credit for saving the lives of his men. Lisette knew he valued her—he had loved her—had he not asked her to marry him but the evening before? He had also sent Severin to hide her so he had considered her welfare just as he had considered the welfare of the entire crew. D'Arcy had not thrown her over because she had rejected him but he had continued to care for her when she might have been considered an enemy.

It was with tenderness that she pulled up an image of his handsome countenance, his face and form, as she sang for him on the forecastle, his intense pleasure in her voice and her song on his face as he watched her. That he was so gentle was what she valued the most about him. She was sorry, sorry for him, that they had to part in such a horrific way. He had laid all of his cards on the table that morning—obviously he still loved her to proclaim himself—proclaim that he would pay her ransom before all those men.

And all of those men thought well of him, every single crew member, every officer had held him in high esteem for his command of Le Cerf Blanc with never a complaint, perhaps even those corsairs had, which was why they had not captured the crew as well.

But it had been difficult, she admitted in reflection, Lisette had been so angry with Captain D'Arcy for a long time for his letting her go, for his not finding some way of preventing her from being slung like plunder over the shoulder of a pirate and taken on board to be stored as if treasure in the hold of that boat. Some small part of her still felt he could have done more though in constant review of it she did not know exactly what else he could have done. He had fought for her, his men had fought too, he had offered money for her and all of it had been inadequate and the corsairs had still prevailed. Her ultimate fate had not been as terrible as it might have been.

But being on a single ship at sea was like finding a needle in a haystack in terms of locating another ship; she had had no idea where Le Cerf Blanc had been headed beyond Lisbon and Lisette doubted she would ever see Captain D'Arcy again so she made plans with Mary Bacon for their return trip home to England.

* * *

A/N: I promised a hurricane but cannot say I am still happy with this chapter but I always intended to use it as part of my storyline and poor Mrs. de Bourgh leaves us at this point. The San Lupo Hurricane of September 25 was quite a fierce one which principally targeted Puerto Rico: this was an actual hurricane that hit the Caribbean in 1785 and is one of those dates I used to base all my other actions upon for Lisette.

I can say that you should buckle up as it is a rollercoaster ride from here on out. Depending on how evil I feel (i.e. whether or not I post the governor's ball in one long 10,000K chapter or cut it in two over two days and leave you with a cliffhanger) we should end about May 20, or the week after if I write an afterward. Fair warning my kids assure me I am the Face of Evil.


	24. Chapter 24

_How hardly I conceal'd my tears!  
How oft did I complain?  
When, many tedious day, my fears  
Told me I lov'd in vain._

 _But now my joys as wild are grown,  
And hard to be conceal'd;  
Sorrow may make a silent moan,  
But joy will be reveal'd._

 _I tell it to the bleating flocks,  
To every stream and tree,  
And bless the hollow murmuring rocks  
For echoing back to me._

 _Thus you may see with how much joy,  
We want, we wish, believe;  
'Tis hard such passion to destroy,  
But easy to deceive._

—Anne, Marchioness of Wharton

* * *

Chapter 24

After so many days at sea, Lisette was happy to disembark at Pensacola in West Florida though she made a point of waiting for the Butler men to leave first on their plant-hunting expedition. The ship was to be in port for a few days while the Butlers searched, and the crew laid in supplies, before The Elinor was to turn and head on its journey back home.

Lisette had little knowledge of Pensacola. One of the lieutenants said it kept being passed from Spanish to British hands and back again though after the last war on the American continent there had been a treaty signed in Paris which had given it back to Spain. The residents seemed happy to trade with the British though they might, by law, be forbidden. She was not sure if some of that trading was not of the kind that went on under the table. Lisette assumed Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake was the type of man who would not deal in contraband goods. He would, however, still trade for items needed or pay for them as at any port, whether or not Spain officially sanctioned such trades but he would attempt to not deal in illegal goods if he could help it.

She and Mary walked around the port with the Lieutenants A. Jones and L. Jones. They decided to eat at a little tavern and enjoyed a change of pace from the on-board ship fare—to enjoy fresh eggs and not to eat fish—when Lisette overheard men talking about Le Cerf Blanc and she could not help but turn her head to look and observe three men speaking in French two tables over. Most of their conversation was centered on their preference for the looser trading policies of the British over the Spanish. They also felt the British dealt with local piracy better—even the French had a better handle on it—than the Spanish who, in their mind, seemed to only encourage piracy and the trading of contraband goods with their restrictive policies in West Florida. Lisette was not sure why Le Cerf Blanc had been mentioned or even if she had heard it correctly but just as she was turning her attention back to her friends one of the French speakers mentioned talking to an acquaintance on Le Cerf Blanc which had docked in Pensacola before heading for New Orleans.

Lisette froze then as she realized where on the globe Captain D'Arcy was, where Le Cerf Blanc was headed.

* * *

They were to be in Pensacola with enough time for Lisette to plan. An assortment of men and ships and smaller boats and their captains were at the docks with various purposes and destinations and she watched them just as carefully as she had watched the port at Le Havre, though it was more difficult to do when wearing skirts as she attracted attention and did not blend into the shadows of warehouse walls as she had then.

One crew of men, a motley blend of Spanish and French appeared to be a local variation of merchants. Their ship was small compared to The Elinor or Le Cerf Blanc with just one large main mast and, perhaps, only accommodations for the crew in the hold besides the captain's quarters but she discovered they were heading to New Orleans.

For weeks her plan had been to return to England with Mary Bacon. Mary had assured Lisette that her family would welcome her into their fold. Lisette would be forever thankful for all of Mary's care and kindness during their voyage—they were of such similar temperaments that she did not want to part from a friend with a similar adventuring spirit. She could never have seen her friend, Charlotte Lucas, setting foot on a boat—braving such a trip—or ever taking on the role of companion for a lady sailing to the West Indies. However Lisette felt she could not ask Mary to follow her, and Lisette needed to follow her heart and seek out Captain D'Arcy.

Lisette explained her plans to Mary—once again she was in an awkward situation of explanation. It was a lot to ask Mary to accept and to have faith in seeing the importance of this venture, for Lisette to leave her friend and to seek the captain. Mary had already been a long-suffering companion to Anna de Bourgh and Lisette felt like she was adding to it by telling Mary she did not wish now to return home to England but wanted to make a trip to New Orleans to search for Captain D'Arcy. Ever patient and understanding, Mary Bacon said she _did_ understand though not to the extent of allowing Lisette to travel by herself to New Orleans so she offered to come with her friend. Mary expressed fears that it was both unsafe to travel alone and that she thought they should not be parted from each other. Because she thought it _was_ dangerous, Lisette was inclined to argue that Mary not join her and eventually won the argument that Mary Bacon should stay safely aboard The Elinor and under the protection of the captain.

Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake was been deeply concerned about letting Lottie Philips leave the ship at Pensacola and he considered locking her in her room and refusing to let her get off the ship simply as a matter of principle—that it was unsafe for a lady, an English lady, to disembark and leave his protection and to attempt the journey from Pensacola no matter how short. He struggled with letting her go and whether he should not just tie her up but he thought then about her being tied up on the corsair ship and whether he would be equating himself with the pirates who had kidnapped her. He realized he simply could not do that same thing and short of tying her up, Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake realized he could not prevent this particular lady from leaving The Elinor. If he was motivated by other thoughts or feelings he did not acknowledge them, even to himself.

His best course of action was to talk to the sailors she had commissioned to take her to New Orleans and let them know that if anything happened to her they would have to answer to him and his crew that they would need to deliver her safely to New Orleans and hopefully deliver her to Le Cerf Blanc.

His final action was to give her a small pistol when she mentioned she had training from her Uncle on shooting.

* * *

It was to be a short trip to New Orleans. She did not attempt to get to know the men on board; it was one time she was glad of the ability to keep to her room. Her accommodations were similar to the ones on Le Cerf Blanc, though she did have two portholes in the room as they traveled across the Gulf to the mouth of the Mississippi and wound their way up against waters that wanted to push them down and back out. Sometimes the force of the Mississippi was against them and sometimes they lucked out with the winds, it was difficult to estimate the two opposing forces.

On the fourth day they sailed through the windy Mississippi, through its final twists and turns and she saw New Orleans before her. It was with a little hesitation but an elation of spirits that she looked at the long expanse of the wharf that lined the entire riverside and all of the ships that were docked there and she thought of seeing Captain D'Arcy.

There were different wharfs depending on the purpose of the ship and eventually they did dock and Lisette disembarked with her few possessions after thanking her companions, and the sailors, her traveling companions, said that they would be there for two more days if she needed to return to Pensacola.

With an eagerness to her step she began to walk along the wharf looking for the outline of a particular ship. She walked from one end to the other and did not spy it, that one particular ship she had so happily returned to after disembarking at so many French and Spanish ports, that ship that had her friends, that ship captained by Gauthier D'Arcy. Lisette did not think that was possible—that she could not pick it out—so she walked the wharf a second time and then a third and felt each time smaller and smaller and more lost. She realized how much had rested on coming here to find Captain D'Arcy again. Love had been a treasure to seek, to aspire to; she had not considered what would occur if the merchandise was not to be found in the port.

She had been ready to tell him she was Lisette Bennet and not Elisabetta Trento, to admit to her lies, to reveal herself. She was crushed that he was not there. She had not figured out how far ahead Le Cerf Blanc had sailed when she had overheard those sailors talking in that tavern in Pensacola, perhaps it had been weeks before that his ship had visited there. Le Cerf Blanc had come and gone from New Orleans and she had missed him. She had done so much, turned away passage back to England, turned away from Mary Bacon's friendship, and once again she was angry with Gauthier D'Arcy for not being there.

She gave way to a bitter disappointment then, to have left the safety of staying on board The Elinor and with the friendship of Mary and to be making some sort of life with her friend in order to pursue, what? Was it a sort of happiness or love she thought she was seeking by finding his ship and finding him again? Was she expecting his addresses again when she had rejected him once before? Did he still love her? What certainty was there?

She paced the wharf one more time and considered asking how long before Le Cerf Blanc had docked in New Orleans but decided against it. It did not matter, _he_ was not there but _she_ was. She considered returning to Pensacola. But by now The Elinor would have sailed on. She thought of the story her grand-mère had told her about the cassette girls who had come here to get married and of her grandmother sending her off on this adventure and its not being the one, the fun and frivolity, Lisette had imaged, perhaps she thought, she should have married John Lucas and stayed in England.

Like in all those small towns between Calais and Dieppe the first thing she needed to do was to find a place to stay so she headed away from the wharf and up into town and had a look at this city called New Orleans.

She did not give over to tears but made her way through the streets, headless of any faces turned to look at her, an unknown, unescorted woman, a white woman in a world where there were so many dark-skinned faces, and she came to the end of town, to a clearing which seemed to be simply where they had stopped building houses though she could see where the streets were laid out and perhaps lots staked out for future houses or buildings. A little crowd was gathered in that empty space.

New Orleans was a rougher place than others she had been to, a little more like she had imagined New World cities to be, what she had expected to see in Basseterre, St. Kitts or Kingston, Jamaica. Here the buildings were no larger than two stories but it was still a built-up city. Lisette was surprised by its neat rows and by how much larger it was than she had predicted. The streets were not put together in a haphazard manner grown slowly over time, like a small English village where a house was added only when needed, but New Orleans had had boom years where the city had needed to grew by tens or hundreds of people and had been laid out in masterful fashion. It also had disasters befall it, been razed to the ground and then rebuilt and then rebuilt, each time in a fancier style.

There was a hospital, and churches. She also had passed numerous taverns as she walked the streets. None of the streets were paved and there were little channels which had been attempted to be cut into the packed dirt as though to direct the flow of water should there be rain; she wondered how well that helped, especially if there was a flood.

In that open space in the north part of town, away from the wharf, Lisette saw a group of people gathered around a small performance. There was a tiny little stage with a curtain and a puppeteer there and it was quite like a Punch and Judy show but rather than puppets on sticks these were puppets on strings. She stopped and was mesmerized. Lisette watched and listened to the little show which was in Spanish though there were a number of words that she could understand.

The performance ended, the curtains closed, and a little man came from behind the stage with a hat and held it out and a few people tossed coins at him. She thought it meager compensation as Lisette had thought the play quite delightful; she thought people stingy or not used to paying for their entertainment when they found street brawls more exciting.

He was about to turn to leave when she stepped up to him and though she was short on cash herself—so she felt she could not hand over a coin—she felt compelled to complement him.

"Monsieur, I do not speak Spanish," she said in French as she curtsied.

He instantly changed to French, "Monsieur Rodolfo Leoni," and he bowed. He seemed as though not used to such courtesies, her curtsey to him, and he looked at her then and said, "Mademoiselle you are new here."

"Yes, I have just arrived today," she smiled.

"New Orleans welcomes you," he said, his hand made a little gesture.

"I thank you; I have to tell you how much I enjoyed your performance even though I do not speak Spanish!" Lisette said with a small laugh.

It was his turn to thank her then.

"I am surprised how few paid with their coin," she continued.

"It is a sorry thing, but for my son and I," he nodded with his head and she peered behind the stage and saw it was a cart with the little stage on top and there was a young man there, a youth between sixteen and twenty, "it makes a way for us to make our living here."

Her song was there in her head as though urging her to reach out to this gentleman and she looked at him, "have you considered singing or adding song to your performances?"

"Ah! No!" He grinned. "Mademoiselle, I do not know that I have the voice; I am an old man." She looked discreetly at him. He did not look that old, his hair had gone gray early, perhaps, but his face was still that of a younger man. He must be just over forty. "I am not sure that I…," he let his voice peter off and made a gesture with his hands.

"Well, what about your son?" Asked Lisette. "Can he sing?"

"Paolo, he has a fine voice. Paolo! Come here; sing for the lady, Mademoiselle…?" He nodded to her and in doing so she was once again charged with creating a name and a story for herself and she thought about all of the lies she had told before and she thought about keeping true to herself for once.

"Mademoiselle Lisette," she answered though it came out in a whisper.

"What a beautiful name, Lisette, Lisette," and the way he whispered it she knew he was delighted with it, "Paolo, sing for Mademoiselle Lisette." And Paolo came up and sang a little song and she even understood a few of the words in Italian.

"It is about our home town," Paolo said.

She looked around and saw there were a few eyes upon them, "see, you have garnered attention, that is perhaps what you need to do, you should sing in your show."

"Ah, yes, yes, yes." He looked at her then with an appraising eye. "Mademoiselle you just arrived you said?" Asked Rodolfo.

"Yes, I am seeking some friends but I do not know if they are still here. They might have already sailed on," her face went blank then.

"You are a nice lady." She nodded as she had no other response. "Do you have anywhere to stay? Anyone to care for you?" He asked with concern then painting his face.

"No," she shook her head.

"It is a rough town, New Orleans, you do not want to be wandering around alone," he warned shaking a finger at her.

"So my shipmates told me," she said.

"Perhaps you should come home and meet my daughter, Francesca, and stay with us?" Offered the puppeteer.

"I can sing," she said.

"Ah, well," they began to pack up the cart, "perhaps you _should_ come home and sing for us and we can think about what to do with our puppets!" Grinned the man.

* * *

She went to work for Rodolfo at the marionette stage. Lisette convinced him to let her dress in boy clothes. He kept warning her about the dangers of the city, how unsafe the streets were—the unsavory types of men—and she said she was well used to wearing boy's clothes and shared some of her tales of how she had run from her home in disguise and had sailed on board three ships to come to New Orleans—leaving off her experiences in the corsair ship.

When they were ready, they tried her experiment with singing. The three of them: Rodolfo, Paolo and Lisette, with help from Rodolfo's daughter: Francesca, wrote a little story into which they could incorporate songs to test her theory about music garnering more coin. Lisette remembered a few of the stories that Scheherazade was reported to have told. One of them was about a boy who found a magic lamp with a jinni in it. Paolo would be the youth and Lisette would play the jinni and Rodolfo would play the other parts. They found a few simple songs and planned to sing their parts as well.

The trio made their way to the square, with Lisette in breeches and her hair tucked up under a boy's cap, and set up the little theater. She found it interesting that she had been masquerading as an Italian lady on Le Cerf Blanc and she ended up working with an Italian man and his children.

They began their little performance of Aladdin and the Lamp. At first just Paolo performed as Aladdin with Rodolfo as the sorcerer and his magic ring. Lisette stood behind the stage helping with small details until Aladdin found the magic lamp and the jinni appeared and then Lisette sang out as the jinni granting wishes. As the story continued she was behind the little curtain and could not tell how things were going and how receptive the audience was to their performance. The three of them could hear some murmuring and voices as the audience noises grew. When they finished they were surprised to hear cheers and huzzahs and clapping from the other side of the curtain.

Signor Rodolfo went, as he always did, with his hat to pass among the audience and he came back after a very, very long time and reported, "that is more money than we usually make in a week! Mademoiselle Lisette this was an excellent idea! They are intrigued about the mysterious voice of the jinni. They want me to bring out the lady who sings with such a beautiful voice." He seemed unsure what to do next.

Lisette realized the issue of dressing in boy's clothes and yet singing with her girl's voice. "Perhaps we need to keep that a mystery; it might be good for business," she said.

"Ah, yes, yes, yes, perhaps," agreed Rodolfo who was a little relieved at not having to expose Lisette.

As the days went on the little puppet theater grew in popularity and Master Rodolfo and his puppeteers became famous in town and many wondered about that mysterious voice for though he had those two young apprentices with him everyone speculated where the beautiful voice came from. She must be smuggled in on that cart and many a young man speculated on her beauty for she was never seen but always heard.


	25. Chapter 25

_It is not that I love you less,  
Than when before your feet I lay:  
But, to prevent the sad increase  
Of hopeless love, I keep away_

In vain, alas! for everything,  
Which I have known be long to you,  
Your form to my fancy bring,  
And makes my old wounds bleed anew,  
And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

—Waller

* * *

Chapter 25

The three of them were heading off to work one afternoon when they kept hearing voices at street corners talking with more than the usual animation about the day's news. Rodolfo and Paolo went over to a crowd to hear what had all the men gathered together.

It appeared that the governor and the acting governor's son had been on a trip to Spain and were due to return that day or the next on the ship, The Magnánimo, depending on when that ship was able to navigate the currents of the Mississippi. This was good news for some who had not cared for the interim governor and his heavy-handed approach to ruling New Orleans while Governor Esteban Miró was away. Many in New Orleans were French and resented the Spanish administration but had been amenable to Governor Miró and his tactics as he negotiated well with Spain to implement the best policies for the colony. But the acting governor, Rémy de Granada, had taken a much more hard line in the six months that Miró had been away and was attempting to make New Orleans an entirely Spanish colony and wished to wipe out the established French culture of fifty years.

It took two days for The Magnánimo to arrive but word spread quickly that only Etienne de Granada y Patron was on board. It was said that Governor Miró had disembarked in Havana, Cuba on official business and would be returning later. Like so many others Lisette went along with half the town to see The Magnánimo dock and to watch the large party returning from Spain disembark: to see and to hear.

The crowd was a cross-section of men from all classes, races and nationalities that gathered to scrutinize the entourage from Spain. Wealthy New Orleans families were there as they came to greet returning friends or even family members who had been gone for six long months. Lisette watched as an almost fashion parade of men came down the gangplank interrupting the porters who were attempting to bring the smaller pieces of luggage or chests down that strip of wood which were not being winched by an overhead crane off of the main deck.

One young man stood in pride of place at the railing of The Magnánimo wearing a black coat that was embroidered with flowers and butterflies and a cream colored waistcoat with the same detail. He wore a magnificent wig topped with a black hat. She supposed that must be the acting governor's son who had been a sort of aide-de-camp to the Governor on the trip. Lisette did not know his real role, so she used an English equivalent. He was speaking loudly to a friend on the dock but it became obvious that his position there at the railing was all for show; his magnificent dress and conversing with such an emphatic voice were all been meant to portray a certain authority.

"Congratulations! Another son, Joaquin you put me to shame. Three sons now! And I need to find a wife still. I have learned my lesson to not linger about the choosing of one any longer," said the well-dressed and grinning young man.

The man on the deck said something in return but Lisette could not hear the words.

"The hurricane! We had to travel through a hurricane," the elegant young man's hands flew up into the air and all eyes were on him then, "have you not heard about the hurricane that swept through the Caribbean? Nearly broke us into a thousand pieces as we were still out to sea." He stopped to cross himself and Lisette noticed a few others on the docks cross themselves in sympathy. "After surviving _that_ I know that God is trying to tell me something and it is that I need to stop my philandering ways and find a good little wife to marry—perhaps a rich one too!" He grinned with a white-toothed smile that was infectious and made many others on the dock follow suit.

Again there was more discussion from people on the dock that she could not hear.

Etienne de Granada made a show of straightening his jacket though it had been made to fit his body specifically and did not need any such adjustments.

"Yes, I _am_ quite a catch, with my father acting governor and not doing too poorly you know," and he made a gesture with his hands that they all knew meant his wealth, "so you ladies, or you widows if you need a husband," and he pointed down at the few women spotted there on the dock and grinned. "Though I have it in mind to seek out some new blood; there are tales of an English lady who is rumored to have crossed the Atlantic and whose father is offering 2,000 English pounds for her return. She must be quite a catch do you not think, eh?"

Whatever the return calls were from his audience they were lost on Lisette who stepped away from the crowds as quickly as she could. Still her father pursued her; he had raised the reward to 2,000 pounds now and would that not turn an honest man dishonest to restore her to her father to collect such a reward? Was there no place to hide from Mr. Thomas Bennet, Esq.?

* * *

They had lowered a boat and some of his burliest were at the oars as St. Denis and Carbonneau sat beside him in the choppy waters of the Gulf. It was impossible not to get wet but his caped great coat shed most of the water and kept him dry. The Elinor lay at anchor and Captain D'Arcy swept his eyes from the forecastle to the aft assessing the damage. He could see how lucky, in some ways, Henry had been that none of the masts had been knocked out by the cannon fire but part of the port side railing had been splintered apart by a cannon ball. A hole had been blown in the berth deck below the forecastle where he knew the middies' accommodations were, and Captain D'Arcy hoped the young men had not been in the room at the time.

Shrapnel and grapeshot had splintered and riddled the port side of the ship and he considered how lucky for him to have been able to come upon The Elinor mid-battle with the pirates and help rout them. He suspected that his cousin would not have been able to fight them off much longer.

St. Denis hailed The Elinor and permission to come aboard was given. A ladder was thrown down to welcome them and D'Arcy and his two lieutenants climbed aboard. He embraced his cousin whom he had not seen in twenty months and introduced Carbonneau who had not been a member of his crew the last time they had met. Jenkins stood silent as usual next to his commander.

"It looks bad Henry," he said in English as he stepped back surveying the damage on deck.

"I know; we are pumping as fast as we can because of a hole at the waterline but a lot of what has been done is actually just her looks, she's battered up but no structural damage is at issue." He smiled a small smile that just raised the edges of his lips. "Come inside and we can talk. The officers' mess is our best bet. My quarters took some damage to the windows."

His lieutenant led the men down the stairs onto the berth deck towards the mess and D'Arcy stopped as he saw a face at a door. A woman peered at him, skirts peeking out through the crack and he was startled by the sight. The eyes were not dark but blue and when he caught sight of them they looked away and the door was shut tight.

His cousin appeared to be arguing with two men when he entered the mess. They were civilians; an odd pair, an older man and a much younger man but both vehement in their attacks against Henry about the pirates, the current conditions of their room and of the ship. The captain of the Elinor finally rid himself of the two saying he would leave them at the next port if they did not leave the room as requested.

"Idiots, father and son," said Fitzwilliam-Blake after they left. "I am sorry I have been saddled with them. The women passengers are much easier."

"I saw one peeking out as we passed," said D'Arcy.

"I must say Miss Bacon was far more level-headed than the Mr. Butlers were during this ordeal. I imagine Miss Philips would have been as well." Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake stole a look at his cousin but nothing showed on D'Arcy's face to show how the reunion with Miss Philips had gone.

"We can get into a discussion of female passengers another day. What do we do about repairs? Pensacola? Havana? Kingston?" said D'Arcy with a little impatience.

"I was thinking New Orleans," said Henry who looked at Lieutenant Jenkins who then nodded in agreement. D'Arcy scowled.

"I just came from there and would hate to turn around," explained D'Arcy.

"But it is our closest port. How is Le Cerf Blanc as far as damage?" asked Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"Nothing structural but as with you I have cosmetic damage. We are not taking on water at the moment so could carry on," replied D'Arcy.

"We do not need to return to port together," said The Elinor's captain. D'Arcy looked thoughtful and glanced over at St. Denis and Carbonneau.

"The authorities," prompted St. Denis. D'Arcy continued his gaze at his second.

"If we are to make a report to the government authorities we should do it together so we should put into the same port," D'Arcy was thoughtful longer and then looked over at his cousin. "I am not sure New Orleans is best as the government authorities were not as welcoming as I had hoped, Governor Miró has not returned and there is an intern governor who has no interest in tackling pirates and may not wish to hear of our troubles."

Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake looked at his cousin and thought then that the reunion with Miss Philips had not gone at all as well as planned, which meant she was alone in New Orleans and he felt a certain responsibility to ensure her welfare.

"Guy, I am taking on water. New Orleans _is_ the next port. We have to put in there. We do not need to see to our cosmetic repairs but I cannot sail even in shallow waters with this leak."

So it was decided, they were to go to New Orleans.

* * *

With their ship repairs keeping them in port the two cousins found time to dine together, off-ship. An acquaintance sent them out the tavern door and north of town with instructions to see Rodolfo's puppet show.

"How is Douglas doing?" Asked D'Arcy as they walked.

"He is fine," answered Fitzwilliam-Blake, "though he complains of school as any boy is want to do. I am not sure what to read into that, whether it is because I am not often at home to receive him when there is a school holiday or because I am at sea and he wants to be, or if he is truly unhappy and is struggling with his courses," and the worried father showed on his face.

"If his schoolwork was at issue I am sure the headmaster would let you know. Does he still threaten to quit and join up as a midshipman when he is fifteen?" Asked the fellow captain.

"Yes, I keep wondering how I am to keep him in school and get him to Oxford. I have four more years to consider before he can run away and sign on a boat as a middie if he so chooses. I wonder if Elinor had not died if I would continue to be faced with such issues. Perhaps if I had remarried as everyone suggested I should not be so concerned."

"But you have not lost your heart again," said his cousin.

"No, I had never considered it again," said Fitzwilliam-Blake, then he paused and looked sideways at his cousin, "until recently."

D'Arcy turned then at those words and raised an eyebrow.

They were passing through the end of the line of buildings and out into the open space north of town and could see a crowd of men gathered before a miniscule stage, some of the men sat on the dirt in front, others stood but all appeared mesmerized by the tiny production.

"Whoever heard of a puppet show garnering so much attention," said Captain D'Arcy and waved a dismissive hand at the cart and the men—the idea of it, "we shall not even be able to see properly," he turned back as though no longer interested.

Henry put a hand on his arm, "let us see what has these men quiet for once, Guy," and his eyes looked with interest at the little stage. Perhaps there might have been some small part of him in thinking then of his son, and wondering if Douglas would enjoy the puppet show or if Douglas, at eleven, might already be thinking himself as too old for such amusements.

The stage appeared to be a cart framed over with curtains and a story was already in place, a boy and a man were talking and then the man, a sorcerer apparently, tricked the boy, and he was left alone and trapped in a cave, despairing for his life. The words in the production were half spoken and half sung, almost like an opera. The boy then took out a magic ring and called on a jinni for help and the jinni appeared.

And that is when they heard the voice of the ghost.

D'Arcy thought he would never hear her voice again and he had had many a sleepless night in contemplating that voice over and over. He had been brusque with his crew, distant from his officers and then to hear her voice floating across the square to once again dance around him made him stop in his tracks as he looked around to try and find his Elisabetta but he could not spy her singing and he thought perhaps that all of those dreams, those nightly dreams of her singing were suddenly to begin haunting him during the day as well, but he looked at his cousin Henry and saw that his cousin had an equally enchanted look on his face as he too looked for the source of that voice.

D'Arcy could not help saying, "she is here!"

His cousin said, "Yes, she is; she came to find you."

The voice stopped and the story continued and they stood and watched with all of the other men as the boy became rich and was betrayed by something so simple as a little housecleaning, 'new lamps for old,' but it all was set right in the end. She was the voice of the jinni and D'Arcy felt as if he was holding his breath waiting for the next time she would speak or sing.

Finally a short, dark man came out, after the curtains had closed, and walked around with a hat gathering coin; men called to him to 'bring out the ghost,' or 'show us the spirit,' but the man smiled or laughed and said "no, no, no, you know that ghosts are not to be seen; you may hear the voice again tomorrow, good sirs, if you choose, but are never to see her."

D'Arcy called out to two men who were passing him, "who is that man?"

"That is Signor Rodolfo, the Italian puppeteer, he entertains us with his show every afternoon," said one.

"Who is it that sings so beautifully?" Asked D'Arcy. The man and his companion stopped to turn and look at them with surprise that they did not know about the ghost.

"No one knows, they call her 'the lady in the cart,' or 'the ghost' or 'the spirit,' as no one has seen her though many a man has attempted to figure out how they smuggle her in the cart every day, Rodolfo and his apprentices," said the man.

"I believe it is his daughter, he is known to have a daughter," said the other, "though why she only just recently started singing when she could have been entertaining us all along…," and his words petered out as a grin graced his face.

"I think she is a mermaid his son captured in the sea and has married which is why they have to hide her in the cart," said the first. D'Arcy nodded vaguely to the men at that point and turned to see that the cart was being packed away and readied to leave. He walked with purpose towards it, shoulder to shoulder, with his cousin.

"Sir," called D'Arcy to the puppeteer, "I need to speak to the lady!" He spoke in his captain's voice, in control though inside he was desperate. The parting with Elisabetta had been horrific. He had thought that Severin had been able to hide her from the corsairs but then to see her screaming and being dragged across the deck by those two pirates at the end had devastated him; all of his hopes in life had faded in that single moment as he watched her struggle with her captors. He had called out, stepped out of his role as captain to proclaim himself again as her lover and to try to ransom her but she had disappeared over the edge of the ship, gone from him.

"I need to speak to her," he called again. His cousin was next to him. The little Italian man was there in front of his stage shaking his head.

"The 'ghost' speaks to no one, good gentleman," and he waved his hands in front of them as if he was a sorcerer and could vanish them, despite the difference in their sizes he did cower before the two tall captains.

"I am a friend!" Called D'Arcy his voice losing some of its control, "Elisabetta…Elisabetta," he called then towards the stage. Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake looked with surprise at his cousin.

"Elisabetta?" asked Fitzwilliam-Blake, "she is Lottie."

"I do not think you gentleman know what you talking of; you are inventing names and histories for the 'ghost' like so many others, you go now," said Rodolfo with his hands still held out in front of him.

"Elisabetta!" Cried D'Arcy and a figure came around the end of the cart, a young man, one of the apprentices with his head bowed as he approached his master.

"Captain D'Arcy," whispered Lisette as she stood next to Master Rodolfo. Her face was pale as she looked at him as though it was he who was the ghost. Lisette had thought he was on his way home, had crossed the Gulf, and rounded Florida by now, perhaps was even crossing the Atlantic after almost two weeks in New Orleans she had given over seeing him again.

Rodolfo put an arm around her shoulders in a protective gesture. "These men do not know of what they speak, Louis, they only want to see the 'ghost,' go and help Paolo finish packing." Lisette did not move as she stood and stared at Captain D'Arcy, her eyes did not leave his face.

D'Arcy stared at the figure next to Rodolfo, dressed in breeches, a trim boy but Elisabetta's face stared back at him.

"What are you doing here?" He cried, "how did you come to be in New Orleans?"

"I am earning my keep," she answered.

"You are dressed as a boy! You cannot be dressed as a boy and earn your keep," he cried in confusion, "how did you come here?"

"I brought her," answered his cousin; and D'Arcy turned to look at Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake next to him.

"You brought her! And when were you going to tell me she was here?" He cried.

"I thought you knew she was here and your reunion did not go as expected; though I actually only brought her as far as Pensacola," said Fitzwilliam-Blake. "She made the rest of the trip on her own." He looked back with some trepidation at Lottie Philips in her breeches at what he had reduced her to by letting her leave his ship and his protection.

"You let her go? You would let a young woman travel to an ungodly place like New Orleans by herself?" Shouted D'Arcy whose anger and confusion at the situation and his intense feelings for Elisabetta all making him unreasonable. "Henry, how could you let her go? Let her slip away?"

"Because of her history I could not prevent her leaving The Elinor," explained Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"Her history!" Cried D'Arcy in confusion.

Lisette watched the two captains arguing with such ferocity about her which made anger rise within. She had thought they were both bound for home, that they were weeks out to sea on their way back to Europe, yet here they were in front of her and instead of a delightful reunion she was forming no part of their conversation.

"Gentlemen, you need not worry about me. I am in Rodolfo's care now," and she leaned against the fatherly figure while the two men suddenly quieted and looked over at her.

"Like all the other little annoying insects, you two fly off, she is well-cared for in my family," and Rodolfo thumped himself on the chest and the two performers turned to finish packing up the cart. D'Arcy and Fitzwilliam-Blake stared as Lisette walked away from them without having said anything else.

"So, the 'ghost,' dresses in boy's clothes!" Said a voice and they turned to see a well-dressed figure standing next to them. Etienne de Granada watched the marionette cart as the three figures hauled and pushed it away. "She has quite a pretty face, this 'ghost,' " and he grinned as though it was a good joke.

* * *

"If ever I saw her again that was not the reunion I imagined," said D'Arcy.

"We did rather make a mess of it," said Fitzwilliam-Blake.

They were sitting together over a glass of rum. It was really a vile drink but it was stronger than ale. Both men did wonder why that had not considered something else.

D'Arcy's hand slapped the table. "You said you brought her here?" He asked.

"Yes," answered his cousin.

"How did she come to be on The Elinor?" D'Arcy's face was contorted with emotions: confusion, pain, even a slight sense of betrayal as he did not understand his cousin's part in all of this.

"The corsairs flagged me down and handed her over to me in August just as we were to cross the Atlantic," explained Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"What! Did my ransom offer reach them so quickly?" cried D'Arcy his face still confused a mixture of conflicting though painful emotions.

"No," answered Fitzwilliam-Blake.

Then D'Arcy looked at him with a clouded expression. "How was it that they let her go?" Asked D'Arcy.

"Lottie ransomed herself," said his cousin. A look of complete horror and despair then crossed D'Arcy's face. "No!" Cried Henry his voice rising. "No," he said with a softer tone and held up a hand. "Do not imagine that. She sang," he continued. D'Arcy's shoulders relaxed.

"Sang?" Said Gauthier D'Arcy in a faint soft voice.

"She did not share many of the details it always made her weep to speak of her time on the corsair ship. Lottie said you could not prevent her being captured so she did what she could to get them to release her and had to sing for her ransom." D'Arcy blanched at that, the aspersion that he could not prevent her from being taken.

"Her captor wanted the names of people to ransom her but she offered him songs instead, a new song every night in exchange for her freedom. I suspect you have heard her sing and know her power and he accepted it as payment and let her go."

D'Arcy was silent. Guilt and despair crept over him as he sat there; they crept over him as they had that day and on every successive day. His responsibility for the ship and his crew had prevented him from completely shielding Elisabetta from harm. It had been evil, an awful choice, to have had to make: to choose one hundred sailors over her. He had not been able to prevent her being taken. It was true he could not prevent her capture.

"They just let her go?" It was so unusual, but she was such an unusual woman.

"Yes. They flagged me down, sent up a white flag, and sent a man with word that they were releasing a prisoner—they did not tell me it was a female prisoner—just an English one. I could not refuse," answered his cousin.

"You are sure she came to no harm?" Asked D'Arcy. Fitzwilliam-Blake was silent then. "What? What happened?" asked his cousin.

"Guy—it was a terrible ordeal for her—they tied her to the hold. It was why I felt I had to let her go when she wanted to come to New Orleans to look for you. I could not very well tie her up again to prevent it!"

D'Arcy was silent over his drink for a long time. She had come to look for him; _Elisabetta had come to look for him_. He thought of some of the snippets from his cousin; those facts Henry had shared and D'Arcy was not sure how much more he wanted to speak or to share with Henry about this lady who had so enchanted him or hear how enchanted his cousin might be with her.

"You called her Lottie?" He finally asked.

"She has said she is Lottie Philips—an English woman and had run away from a guardian who wanted to marry her off against her wishes," said Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"She told me she was Elisabetta Trento, an Italian lady who had visited France and was returning home."

They were both silent for a while.

"Who is she?" D'Arcy slapped his hand down on the table with force. "She could be either of those or neither—and today she was dressed as a boy." He was growing angry. "Is she an actress from the London or Paris stage and performing in some elaborate way?"

"She seemed exactly who she said she was," said Fitzwilliam-Blake, "an English girl fallen on hard times because of circumstances and making do with what she had."

"How can you not question everything you think you know about her?" asked D'Arcy.

"I think, perhaps, I am not as crossed in love with her as you are," said his cousin.


	26. Chapter 26

_Sigh no more, ladies;  
ladies, Sigh no more;  
Men were deceivers ever;  
One foot at sea and one at shore,  
To one thing constant never,  
Then sigh not so,  
but let them go,  
and be you blithe, and merry,  
converting all your sounds of woe into,  
Hey down, hey down derry._

—Shakespeare

* * *

Chapter 26

Repairs to both of their boats would keep them in port for many days, their men could oversee that by themselves so both D'Arcy and Fitzwilliam-Blake could be idle which meant that the next afternoon they came to see Rodolfo's puppet show in its entirety. The puppeteer came to pass the hat again but he eyed with caution the two captains and then passed by them without waiting for their coin.

D'Arcy could see figures behind the stage but he was waiting for the crowd to thin before speaking to Elisabetta again. It seemed an interminably long wait as voices cried out for the ghost to sing again. He suspected a number of the men came from local taverns well into their cups, and others who had no other place to go stood listless, without purpose as though ready to wait until the next day's performance. He finally lost his temper waiting and walked towards the cart.

"Elisabetta, Elisabetta!" He cried.

"Sir, you must leave us be," cried Rodolfo at his shoulder.

"I need to speak to her," cried D'Arcy.

"We reviewed this before," said Rodolfo," no one speaks to the ghost."

Lisette helped Paolo pack up the cart with her head down and her hands busy with their work. Her coming to New Orleans and her reunion with Captain D'Arcy had not been what she imagined, full of happiness and cheer, possibly a renewal of his addresses, possibly kisses. And he had come, inexplicably, with his cousin, Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake, so she could not but assume that they had shared stories about her and the half-truths—her lies—had surfaced.

She wondered what he thought of her now, perhaps he no longer cared for her. Was he disgusted with all of the lies she had told? If Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake was here she had to assume Mary Bacon was here and that, at least, made her happy; so too was the idea of possibly returning to England.

When grand-mère had had her own adventures she had been married, and Madame Briard had only had 'adventures' around France and over to England, nothing like Lisette's, with men and kisses, four ship passages—one with pirates—and with all the different skills her hands had learned and all the new songs her voice had been coached to sing. Lisette felt it was time to be done with adventuring. She thought she had heard that greatest mystery of life calling her to New Orleans—Love—and that it ruled everything, but she had been mistaken. There was a new skill mastered: puppetry, but no love.

"Elisabetta," cried D'Arcy again. Signor Rodolfo was doing his best to keep D'Arcy at bay but she walked over, her head bowed from any others.

"Louis," she said to him in a soft voice, "I am Louis now."

D'Arcy looked at her in her boy's clothes with her hair tucked away.

"Louis—you are Louis now! Who are you really?" He said with more anger than he intended.

"I am Louis, I am Elisabetta, I am Lottie, I am the ghost, I am all of these things," she said.

"Are you an actress that you play so many roles? That you seek to play the coquette?" He was unreasonable then but his anger and his attraction made him unreasonable. His discussion with his cousin the day before had not helped, and like Lisette, he was disconcerted that his reunion was not as he had imagined.

"No, I am no actress, Captain D'Arcy, I was having an adventure," she said with her Elisabetta voice but it was not how she had wanted to explain herself, This was not the place to do it; nor was she dressed for the part. Her voice faltered as she spoke.

"An adventure," he took in her face, her lovely dark eyes that had enchanted him night after night on board Le Cerf Blanc and then haunted his dreams after she had left. What game was she playing at? Henry did not have her measure at all. He turned to go, almost without saying his goodbyes, so he turned back to at least be courteous.

"Señor Rodolfo, I have a gift for the ghost," said a voice right next to them. D'Arcy turned to see the acting governor's son there a package tied with strings in his hands. Signor Rodolfo looked at Etienne de Granada with an impassive face.

"Señor," and Rodolfo bowed before the young man who was dressed as elegantly as ever though with humidity and bugs he forewent his wig. "The ghost does not accept gifts." He shook his head to emphasize his point but then looked at Lisette who eyed the package. Etienne grinned at her, a single eyebrow raised in humor.

"Tell the 'ghost' that this is thirty yards of silk from Spain—just brought back from my trip, you know. My dressmaker in town awaits her orders!" He exclaimed.

"Ah! No, no, no," Rodolfo persisted but Lisette took a step forward. It had been months since she had heard the rustle of silk skirts. Young apprentice, Louis Sabot, took a second step forward to bow low before Etienne de Granada y Patron.

"I thank you, Sir. I shall give this to the 'ghost' with your compliments. Might I share your name with her?" She asked. The young man's smile was so wide you could see all his teeth and he identified himself.

"My father is the current acting governor, you know, young, 'Sir,'" he said in a gentle, flirtatious voice. D'Arcy watched the exchange with a mixture of emotions as a package of paper, tied with knots was passed to Elisabetta's arms and he thought back to once preparing his own gift to her, one simply made up of her own dry clothes, wrapped in old sail cloth that he had tied in knots so Le Fevre would not peek at the contents. He turned on his heel and left without another word.

* * *

The next day Lisette received a gift of lace to compliment the beautiful blue silk Etienne de Granada had given her. Francesca had exclaimed over it and said she had never seen anything more beautiful. Lisette was not certain about following up on his offer to use his dressmaker so the fabric sat folded in its paper wrappings—with the lace in a pool on top— for her and for her friend to admire in the evenings.

On the third day his gift was a necklace of beautiful blue stones almost the same shade as the silk and Lisette wondered then what game Etienne was playing at—was this one of seduction? She was, after all, a girl dressed in boy's clothes working outside in the elements at a little marionette theater. In reality, an actress as Captain D'Arcy had accused, though not one with an actress' morals. She had her fierce protectors in Rodolfo and Paolo.

She had been surprised that Etienne de Granada had seen through her disguises; most men seemed all too willing to believe the illusion of the beautiful lady hiding in the cart and ascribed her a face and form—Lisette laughed at the mermaid stories—and to ignore Signor Rodolfo's second apprentice. Somehow Etienne, like her tormentor on the corsair ship, was one of the few men able to resist or see through or see past her singing. Not every man fell under Ray-of-Sun's spell.

* * *

Lisette decided to go see Mary Bacon, dressed in girl clothes for once, and had Paolo walk her to the wharf. She could not help but spy Le Cerf Blanc standing proud at anchor quite near The Elinor but she paced by it to the gangplank of her destination and hailed. Middy Webb stood at the top and waved her on board and she asked if he could show Paolo around the ship while she visited with Miss Bacon and he agreed; she hoped she was not upsetting a routine or if he should have asked for permission first.

She knocked on what used to have been her own cabin door.

"Who is it?" Called Mary.

"Lisette," the door was opened to a wide-eyed Mary who hugged her tightly in her arms.

"I did not know how to look for you or what had become of you!" Cried Mary. Lisette enjoyed Mary's arms as a welcome relief to her days in New Orleans.

"It has been quite a misadventure," began Lisette.

"We were attacked by pirates!" Cried Mary, "after we left Pensacola!" And she dragged Lisette into the room. Lisette had wondered why Fitzwilliam-Blake and D'Arcy were in town but did not have the opportunity to ask. Lisette had come to share _her_ troubles and talk about _her_ problems but it was Mary Bacon's turn to speak for once. "We had sailed for two days and then I heard the loudest sound ever—cannon fire—at us! And there was nowhere safe to hide on the ship!" She tugged Lisette to sit next to her on one of the beds. Mary threw an arm around her waist.

"There were firing at us though none of it hit us; I am not sure if Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake had forewarning or not, whether he knew they were to attack us. I did not know what to do so I just lay down on the floor as the safest thing I could think of. I could hear the sailors rushing around—feet up on deck and lots of shouting. I could hear the Mr. Butlers yelling for help next door but I do not think anyone came. Then there were the sounds of gunfire and that did hit us! I have heard men shooting before, you know, but this was monstrous, it was constant like rain," she cried as she hugged her friend while telling her story.

"It sounds abominable—but they fought the pirates off?" Asked Lisette.

"Oh no! Not that I knew it at the time. Apparently they were losing the battle and the captain thought they might have to surrender but then that French ship came to help," Mary said.

"French ship?" Lisette leaned back to take in her friend's face.

"Yes, the White Hart or whatever it is in French. I was never the best with languages. I just remember thinking how pretty that was as a name for a ship. The French captain was in the area and came to our rescue. I am not sure how he knew to help us," she explained her eyes gleaming.

"Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake and Captain D'Arcy are cousins so they recognize each other's ships," explained her friend.

"How extraordinary! But one is English and one is French," cried Mary.

"Captain D'Arcy had an English mother," said Lisette.

"And that is your captain?" Asked Mary and leaned in closer.

"Yes," answered Lisette.

"Well, between them they chased off the pirates," explained Mary. "Apparently it was a well-known one from these parts: Bras Pique."

"Bras Pique! I have heard of him." Lisette sat up a little straighter. "The men on the boat from Pensacola told me about him. He has been quiet for a while but apparently is back to his old tricks now."

"Yes," said Mary. "I have never been so terrified in all my life—even the hurricane was nothing to this! I cannot wait to return to boring old rain storms in England. I shall never complain of the weather or discomforts ever again!" She leaned over to embrace her friend with both arms.

"It all sounds so frightful," said Lisette who hugged her in return. "Even I have never been under attack. When the corsairs took over our ship they only fired a few warning shots but we were so surrounded that Captain D'Arcy did not fight."

"And did you find him?" Asked her friend sitting back up to look at her directly.

Lisette was quiet for a few moments. "No, he had left before I even arrived."

"But they have both come to make repairs, I know as Captain D'Arcy came on board when we were out in the Gulf, after the fighting was over, to assess what to do. Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake and he decided to come here—to New Orleans. You can find him!" Mary's eyes gleamed again.

"I have seen him but he no longer seems interested in resuming our acquaintance," Lisette looked at the wall across from them, not at Mary. "I did turn down his proposal and what man makes a second proposal?"

"Sweetest Lottie!" Cried her friend who embraced her tightly again.

"But I have new friends and have been working as a puppeteer." Lisette told Mary then about the marionette show.

"How lovely," cried Mary.

"It is in a rough part of town; I am not sure you should come see it," cautioned Lisette. "But I am considering going home. I am not sure that my place is here, in New Orleans. Grand-mère had encouraged me to seek adventure—and possibly love—and I think I have found enough adventure and like you I am ready to go home and consider English weather with fondness. I even have money for my passage now."

"I should like to have your company Lottie," said Mary then frowned, "or should I call you Lisette?"

"Keep calling me Lottie, I have told no one else about being Lisette besides Rodolfo and even here, word has traveled about Lisette Bennet having a reward out for her return," she explained.

Lisette thought about traveling home though she did not seek out Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake to discuss her passage before leaving The Elinor. Meeting with Captain D'Arcy's cousin felt too raw to see someone so connected with her business

As they made their way home, Paolo told her that the crew shared with him that there were rumors that the governor, the true governor, Esteban Rodríguez Miró y Sabater, had actually been kidnapped in Havana and was being held there. Ransom demands had come to New Orleans for his return though no one was quite sure who had kidnapped him and who it was that was supposed to pay for him, was it his family or the government?

* * *

There was no gift from Etienne de Granada after that afternoon's performance and Lisette wondered if the first three presents were to be the extent of his gift-giving but when she arrived home with Rodolfo and Paolo early that evening Francesca showed her a metal bath tub that had been delivered—somehow Etienne had discovered where she lived.

Lisette heated water on the stove and she and Francesca turned the kitchen into a bathroom and enjoyed the luxury of a sit-down bath and then sat before the kitchen fire to dry their hair. It was a little heavenly moment.

The next morning a dressmaker came to the house to measure Lisette. She clucked at the state of her corset and hand-made underclothes—Lisette did not share about her boy's clothes. Madame Clémence took the silk and the lace away promising a new dress in short order and other finery.

Etienne was there that afternoon at her marionette performance. Lisette peeked out at the crowd in front of the stand and saw him in the crowd. He reminded her a lot of Gérard, and perhaps, Serge—he was built in the same compact way, an athlete's build, trim and well-balanced of form. He was handsome with close-cropped hair, perhaps it was curly though that was difficult to tell, and a stylishly trimmed beard and mustache. She suspected he had a valet who trimmed and clipped his hair and beard on an almost daily basis. His clothes were always exquisite, quite fancier than she had ever seen on a man before, even on her Cousin Collins though she thought Etienne's taste exceeded her cousin's.

Francesca, when applied to for information—and she could not hide who the gifts were from anyways—said his mother had been a rich French widow and his father was a Spanish nobleman which accounted for his French name. She thought it interesting how many people were of two nationalities.

There was a break in the program where the jinni did not need to perform or sing and Lisette looked out at Etienne again. She wondered why he was pursuing her and whether she could remember all of those lessons she had learned during her adventures, especially those concerning men.

* * *

Lisette meditated giving Etienne the benefit of the doubt, especially when the first dress from Madame Clémence arrived. It was not the anticipated blue silk creation but must have been a ready-made item and only wanting fitting. It was flowery and pink and Francesca helped her into it and Lisette twirled in the small kitchen in their tiny two bedroom house; she twirled laughing until she was dizzy and had to fall over exhausted into a chair. She had always loved frilly dresses and wearing fine things though not enough to have ever married the odious and oily Reverend Mr. Collins just to keep her in dresses and shoes and jewels.

"What do you think are his intentions?" Asked Lisette with her cheeks rosy from her exercise. "I have no notion of this man and why he keeps sending me presents."

Francesca frowned. She was a year older than Lisette with the dark coloring of the Italians and running on the plump side which her short stature emphasized. She would probably have been ordinary looking except she had the largest eyes Lisette had ever seen which she thought must captivate men though Francesca never mentioned beau or marriage.

"Etienne de Granada is known to be popular with the ladies," Francesca began and then paused. Lisette looked at her and waited though she thought the answer was obvious.

"So he is not seeking a wife?" Asked Lisette.

"Perhaps not," answered Francesca. "Most of the ladies he has been paired with are widows," and she pursed her lips together then expressing her morals in that simple gesture.

"You do not think he has decided it is time to do his duty and marry?" Asked Lisette.

"He might, any man might, but his father is so wealthy—though no one seems to know where the money comes from—Etienne does not need to marry for money which so many in New Orleans do."

"I see, I best be on my guard," said Lisette.

It was another reason to return home to England.


	27. Chapter 27

_The rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a shower,  
Which Mary to Anna convey'd  
The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flower,  
And weigh'd down its beautiful head._

 _The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet  
And it seem'd to a fanciful view  
To weep for the buds it had left, with regret,  
On the flourishing bush where it grew._

 _I hastily seized it, unfit as it was  
For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd,  
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas!  
I snapp'd it, it fell to the ground._

 _And such, I exclaim'd it the pitiless part  
Some act by the delicate mind,  
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart  
Already to sorrow resign'd._

 _This elegant rose had I shaken it less,  
Might have bloom'd with its owner a while;  
And the tear, that is wiped with a little address,  
May be followed perhaps by a smile._

—Cowper

* * *

Chapter 27

She expected to see Etienne among the crowd again and was greatly surprised to see two tall captains in the audience instead. Lisette wondered if D'Arcy was going to insist on speaking with her after the marionette show ended and then she wondered how she would feel if he did _not_.

It was not until her second viewing that she spied Mary Bacon between them and understood that her friend had contrived to come see her show under the escort and protection of the two captains. Lisette would most certainly be speaking to D'Arcy, to all three of them, after the performance.

The crowd was loud with its applause and there were many calls for the ghost as usual. Lisette worked to carefully pack away the marionettes and props and to help with the cart yet the mob lingered. When she was done and Paolo and Rodolfo had completed their tasks as well, she looked out at the crowd thinking she might have mistaken their intentions but her friends were still there they just stood a little apart.

"Time to go," called Rodolfo clasping one of the handles of the cart. Paolo lifted the other.

"Lottie," Mary called to her. Lisette turned and waved a hand to silence her friend. Captain D'Arcy looked at her with an expressionless face.

"I am Louis here," said Lisette leaving her Italian friends and coming up to see Mary.

"I adored the show," said Mary. "I do not know that I have ever seen such puppets—on strings. On market days back home there was sometimes a little festival and Papa would take us and…"

"Louis," interrupted Rodolfo, "we should get our cart home." He was looking not at Lisette or Mary but the two captains whom he still held to be suspicious.

Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake eyed Lisette with some trepidation as though he still had reservations about her wearing breeches. "Perhaps we should let Louis go but can we meet with your friend for supper?" He said it more to Miss Bacon than to Lisette. Lisette was not certain about dining out with both captains but could not think of a way to decline the invitation without giving offense to Mary and gave her directions.

At home she changed to her pink dress and her three friends collected her soon afterwards. The difference between the scruffy Louis with his second-hand clothes and Lisette in her new form-fitting dress was profound and both captains noticed though it was Mary who exclaimed over the beauty of the dress, calling such attention to it that Lisette spoke of its origins as a gift from Señor de Granada. Both men frowned at this news, that scowl which she had not seen for so long appeared on Captain D'Arcy's face. Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake, however, stepped forward to offer Lisette his arm, leaving D'Arcy to secure Mary's, and they went in search of an appropriate tavern for supper.

It took a little searching to find a place that both served food as well as drink and seemed an appropriate one for ladies but they eventually settled in for a meal. Conversation began—in English as Mary decried her French as poor—about the marionette show but Lisette was more interested in boat repairs and possibly of hearing about the battle and of Bras Pique the pirate. The captains were hesitant to speak of their encounter with the pirates in the Gulf but did say that Bras Pique had become more active recently and was worrying merchant ships in the area again after a hiatus of many months.

Fitzwilliam-Blake was far more talkative than his cousin and the conversation over the meal occurred mainly between him and Lisette. Not that D'Arcy's eyes were not repeatedly drawn to her; it was _her_ , his Elisabetta before him, safe and whole when he had thought it might be a twelve month before he might see her again. It had nearly destroyed him when he had heard her cry and saw those two corsairs dragging her to the edge of the boat. He had declared himself in front of both his men and the corsairs to say he would ransom her—that he wanted her—but that corsair had only laughed, tossed her to a colleague like she was booty and Elisabetta had slipped away. His entire future shattered like a tea cup knocked negligently off of a table.

D'Arcy watched her animated form as she spoke with his cousin and Miss Bacon, and he tried to perceive if this was the same Elisabetta he had known back on board Le Cerf Blanc. She had said she was Elisabetta _and_ Lottie _and_ Louis which seemed to him as though she _was_ an actress playing a game. Henry felt she was making due with her situation as best she could, that she had fallen on hard times, but D'Arcy could not but feel there was something naughty about this young woman who had so captivated him. She was, after all, accepting gifts—as he eyed her in that flowered dress—from a man like Etienne de Granada. She had also turned down his marriage proposal and why would a decent woman do that?

"Does he always look so frightening?"

D'Arcy was recalled to the tavern by her voice to find Elisabetta looking at him with an arched brow.

"You mean to frighten me Captain D'Arcy. But I will not be alarmed and assume you are simply practicing your captain's scowl. You must know that I am not to be frightened by it, at the will of another—I fear I am too stubborn. My trials have shown that," she exclaimed.

"You are mistaken," he replied automatically. "I could not entertain any design of alarming you. That you are stubborn…" and then he left off talking lest he speak ill of a lady, speak ill of her.

Elisabetta laughed at him with a heartiness that invited the others to join in. "Your cousin will give you a pretty notion of me and teach you not to believe a word I say. Perhaps it is unlucky for us to meet up again here, for he might expose my real character where I had hoped to pass myself off with some credit. It would be ungenerous of you to mention, Captain D'Arcy, what you knew to my disadvantage before, for I may have to retaliate." He thought again that she had some game in mind.

"I am not afraid of you," he answered.

"I should like to know how he behaves among strangers," said Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"When I first arrived on Le Cerf Blanc he practically threw me off though I had booked passage! You cannot imagine how incensed he was that I—a woman—had booked passage on his ship. Captain D'Arcy you cannot deny that fact."

"It is true I was surprised that E. Trento was in fact a Mademoiselle and not a Monsieur," he replied.

"True, but you cannot deny that you might have been more welcoming that day? Well Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake, you say your repairs are coming along. How soon shall you be able to leave New Orleans?" She turned back to The Elinor's captain.

"Perhaps I might have been more welcoming it is true," said D'Arcy, "But I have never had a single lady book passage on my ship before. I was nothing if not startled." The scowl was gone but his face was still serious.

"Shall we ask your cousin the reason for this?" Asked Lisette addressing herself to Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake. "He said he has had women on board before so I do not see why _my_ being on board should have been any different?"

"I think, perhaps, you caught him unawares, and knowing him, he would be concerned about ensuring your safety and well-being," answered Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"I thought, perhaps, it was because he thought me too much trouble," said Lisette playfully, looking back at D'Arcy.

"I was greatly concerned for your safety," said D'Arcy his voice deepening, "and as it turned out I had a right to be so concerned." He captured her eyes with his and showed a little of that despair he had felt when the corsairs had dragged her away. Lisette looked at Captain D'Arcy and considered what that had meant for him to have taken away his source of joy in life, his hope for the future.

"Elisabetta," he began but a figure was at his shoulder then and he looked up, they all looked up, to see Etienne de Granada with a lady and a gentleman by his side.

"Ah ha! So you escape your cart!" Etienne cried, "but you are in disguise I see." The young man lowered his voice. "Very fitting and very beautiful." D'Arcy could see the young man had eyes only for Elisabetta and the lady at his side wore jealousy with tense shoulders and a tight brow.

"And what am I to call you in this disguise, eh?" cried Etienne, still with eyes only for Lisette.

"Lottie, Miss Lottie Philips. May I present my friend, Miss Mary Bacon. And these are the captains Fitzwilliam-Blake of The Elinor and D'Arcy of Le Cerf Blanc." She introduced her party with a smile that made Etienne reach for his cravat. He bowed to Miss Bacon and nodded then to the captains who had stood when they noticed the lady.

"This is Sol, Sol Adao," he said without giving her an honorific or title, the lady in question pursed her lips while she curtsied, "and my friend Nick Owens," he waved generally at the man.

Sol was beautiful and complimented Etienne well. Her skin was like aged ivory, her hair black and smooth and styled in a manner that indicated she kept a maid. Her dark eyes were framed with dark lashes though they were cold and unfriendly eyes that peered at the group of diners.

"My father is fixing to have a ball soon, Miss Philips, should you not like to come and to dance?" Asked Etienne.

Lisette had heard about the almost weekly quadroon balls in New Orleans and been warned by Rodolfo, Paolo and Francesco to never attend them. The quadroon balls were for white men and free women of color to find each other and to 'contract relationships.' Though that was all the Leoni family would say about the exact nature of the balls.

"I may be too busy Señor de Granada," she answered.

"Do say you will come. This is to be a special ball to celebrate my return to New Orleans! I have been gone for six months, you know, so we must have a celebration." His threw his arms wide as he talked with great intensity of feeling. Lisette dithered with her second reply.

"I have your directions, you know," he wagged a finger at her, his smile broad and happy. Lisette was beginning to form an opinion about distrusting smiles as she thought of all those enthusiastic ones she had encountered: Cousin Collins', Cousin Serge's, her corsair tormentor's, Etienne's, perhaps she needed to add that to her list of lessons learned, to be wary of men sporting such smiles.

Lisette only smiled politely in return. Etienne bowed his good-byes and took his friends with him, and Lisette and her friends rose to leave as well. Mary claimed a headache, and Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake offered to escort her back to The Elinor, with one short look at Lisette, and it was Captain D'Arcy who walked beside her back to the small house Lisette shared with Rodolfo and his children.

They were silent together for many minutes.

"Elisabetta, you need to be wary of Etienne de Granada," said Captain D'Arcy to her as they walked the dark and dirty streets of New Orleans. "His character is not what it appears on the surface."

"You seem to be well informed about this man," she said, "for all that you have been in New Orleans for only a week. How is it you can cast aspersions against his character?" She had not meant to sound so doubting and angry with him but none of her encounters with Captain D'Arcy developed as she imagined or wished.

"I have had fore knowledge of him and there is some information which I cannot share which lets me warn you, as a friend, to take caution and care where Etienne de Granada is concerned," he answered.

"As a friend! Are we friends Captain D'Arcy?" She was unreasonable now, "you were the captain of a ship I was on, as part of my adventure in fleeing from my home. But are we friends?" She stopped to look at him and he stopped next to her, standing tall in the dark street and she could not really see anything of his face, whether the scowl was there or his sweet, slight smile. How could they be friends after she had said she could not marry him? What man would consider a second proposal and risk rejection again? He still called her Elisabetta and did not know her real identity. There seemed such a gulf between them.

"My name is Lisette Bennet," she said to his dark form. "I am English, not Italian, but I suppose you figured _that_ out." He was quiet for a moment.

"Lisette," he said it so softly she almost did not hear him. He said it with the same sort of accent her grand-mère and mother did, those native French speakers, rather than the heavier way the English did. A shiver went down her back. "Yet it is a French name," he said.

"My mother is French—like you I am half and half," she said and turned to walk to her home. D'Arcy followed. They seemed to have run out of things to say. The anger had cooled but there was no other topic to discuss between them so they walked with the silence growing between them along those dark streets that were yet full of people. It was so unlike the comfortable silences on his ship when his crew would absence themselves during those evening walks on the main deck and up to the forecastle. At her door she paused to see if he had anything else to say but Captain D'Arcy only nodded his head and Paolo opened the door to let her in.

A deep and abiding passion—is that what she felt for Captain D'Arcy? Was it he who had truly captured her heart? She thought about Lydie running away with her groom and what gentle Jeannette had said of her love for Mr. Bingley and then about all of her lessons she had learned about men during her adventuring; and all of the cross-section of people she had met and it all paled with the intensity of her feelings for le capitaine. He had said at supper he was going to sail soon. Would they part ways in the next week to never see each other again? She felt at a loss as to what to do.

* * *

News spread through town in the morning that another ship had been attacked by the pirate Bras Pique. The attack had occurred right at the mouth of the Mississippi and the merchant ship, The Daylight, had been crippled and lost a lot of its treasures as it had been returning to New Orleans laden with luxury goods from Spain. A number of men had been hurt as well. The ship was attempting, though crippled, to speed up the Mississippi to New Orleans.

The dressmaker also came with the blue silk creation. It was wrapped in paper packed in a box and Lisette thought she had never seen a lovelier dress and could not wait to shed her current clothes to try it on. There were new underclothes and a new corset as well to be laced into by Madame Clémence who exclaimed that she had never sewn a more beautiful creation but then she had never had a more exceptional inspiration. When Lisette was corseted and laced the dressmaker sighed and exclaimed and said Lisette was the loveliest lady in New Orleans and she should know as Madame Clémence dressed most of them. Francesca thought it was the prettiest dress she had ever seen and Rodolfo and Paolo were applied to and though Paolo was similar in his praise for the dress and the lady, Rodolfo was quiet.

"Be careful, _figlia_ , that you know what you are doing both by accepting gifts and by wearing such a creation," he cautioned.

* * *

There were rumors around town about the governor's ball as Etienne had hinted at and that it was not to be like the quadroon balls, it was to be at a plantation up river, and was to be a proper ball with all of the New Orleans families in attendance. Lisette thought more about attending, especially if it meant being able to wear that blue silk creation.

In the afternoon both Etienne de Granada and Captain D'Arcy were in the audience and she wondered if Louis would be obligated to speak to them and she discovered she would not have to when the show was over the three performers packed up and headed for home without speaking to anyone.

On the way home she mentioned to her adopted father that she was considering returning to England. "For I came to seek friends who were not here and New Orleans is not the place for me," she explained. "I appreciate you taking me in, Papa Rodolfo, and everything you have done for me but I have been thinking of my country, my home. My friend Miss Bacon is to sail again in a few days and I think I shall go with her."

" _Passerotta_! How can I thank you enough for helping me, my family, and my little puppet show?" Rodolfo exclaimed. "Yes, yes, yes, you should go home and with a friend too. New Orleans is not the place for a fine English girl. You go home to your family."

She had not shared the whole story of her father and tears spilled down her cheeks. "You have been a very good Papa to me, Signor Rodolfo!" She hugged him there in the street. He patted her back awkwardly.

"Family is ever _importante,_ you should return home to yours." When they reached their small house, Etienne was standing in front waiting for them, an unexpected visitor.

"Ah! The Leoni family returns. I wanted to repeat my invitation to the ball on Thursday eve to Miss Philips if she is around," and he comically looked about him, past their shoulders as though she was missing from their party.

"She may not be here much longer; she may be returning…," began Rodolfo but Lisette laid a hand on his arm.

"Thank you, Señor de Granada, I am sure Miss Philips would love to attend the ball," answered Lisette.

"But she is to leave? Did I hear that correctly?" Etienne cried.

"Perhaps," she said without commitment and smiled which seemed to reassure him.

"Will you come as my guest, Mademoiselle?" And he bowed formally in front of her which must have made an odd picture, one man bowing to another.

"I thank you, Sir, it would be my pleasure," she answered.

" 'Til Thursday night then," and he walked off.

"Louis!" Cried Rodolfo," what are you doing? Have I not warned you of that man?" He sounded every bit like a stern and concerned father.

"But my ship leaves the next morning," she cried, "and I should love to wear that dress one time and attend a ball in New Orleans before I go. What harm can come from that?"

Rodolfo grumbled and complained as he unlocked the door to the shed that housed the marionette cart and they pushed it inside.

* * *

"May I speak to young Louis?" Said Captain D'Arcy after the next day's performance. Lisette had peered out and instantly spied him; she wondered if any of Le Cerf Blanc or The Elinor crew came to see the puppet show or if any of the passengers did—the two Mr. Butlers who were still on board—did anyone else recognize the ghost?

Rodolfo was ever cautious and shook his head first before looking to Lisette for guidance.

She sighed, "I will speak with the captain."

Rodolfo stepped away to give them a little space and Captain D'Arcy stood there in silence before her after formally greeting her and it seemed they were to be in danger of sinking into total silence as on that walk back home after their meal together. If he had come to speak to her with a purpose he seemed to have lost it. It was absolutely necessary therefore to think of something.

"Your trip here has been successful, Capitaine, I trust?" She asked.

"Perfectly," he said.

She found that she was to receive no other answer and after a short pause added. "And the repairs are coming along? I understand from Miss Bacon that The Elinor is to sail home in a few days. Is your ship sea worthy?"

"We shall be done soon and also be back on schedule and able to leave. I expect we may depart on the same tide as The Elinor," he replied.

Lisette made no answer. She was afraid of talking any longer of sailing home and of the two vessels and had nothing else to say. He had asked to speak to her yet had not broached a particular subject. He took the hint.

"Signor Rodolfo seems to take good care of you. You appear quite blessed to have landed in capable hands when you came to New Orleans," he began.

"I have been blessed. I was…," she paused as she pondered how to explain to Captain D'Arcy that she had come here for him? That she loved him. Did that matter to him? She wondered and doubted that he loved her still. She looked at his handsome face, those dark eyes looking down at her and thought again how much she loved him. "I was disappointed when I arrived here yet within an hour I had found Signor Rodolfo."

He had watched her carefully while she spoke and she wondered if he could see how she felt about him—did it show on her face or in her eyes?

"I rejoice that you found friends so quickly," he said. "Such good and sensible friends," there was the beginnings of a small smile on his face. "And are you very attached to your new friends?"

"I love all of them dearly," was her reply and the smile on his face vanished.

"I should let you return to them, then," he said and bowed.

She watched him as he made his way through the crowd; it was so easy to pick his tall form out from others. Lisette kept her eyes on him until she could no longer see him.

"I think he is in love with you, that captain," said Rodolfo putting a hand on her shoulder.

"There are too many obstacles between us," said Lisette and pulled away from his touch.

" _Come un raggio di sole hai illuminato la mia vita_ ," answered Rodolfo.

"Pardon?" Lisette turned to look her friend in the eyes.

"It means 'like a ray of light you have warmed my life;' I believe you have warmed that captain's life, _figlia_."

* * *

Lisette lay awake for hours considering how she felt about Captain D'Arcy. He was certainly well respected. Almost every day she heard snippets about other ship and boat captains that came to New Orleans and the reputations of those captains varied wildly. Though the territory might be ruled currently by the Spanish most thought of Spanish captains as more corrupt, they dealt the most in contraband goods at high prices whereas the French and British captains still maintained a more honest sort of trade with a more reasonable expectation of price for their goods.

Captain D'Arcy was highly respected. But she was not in New Orleans to engage in trade with Captain D'Arcy. She was in love with him. The courtship they had on Le Cerf Blanc had been the most wonderful feature of her adult life. No man of her acquaintance inspired feelings like he did, not John Lucas or Gérard Nezat or Etienne de Granada, even faithful Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake and certainly not Cousin Collins.

Lisette had not known that she longed for love that she was waiting for it. She had watched her sisters fall in love—been surprised that they did so—but thought herself above such a thing or thought she had not needed it. Lisette thought she was an independent lady needing no one else besides herself in life. But the love she wanted in her life was Captain Gauthier D'Arcy's and not any other man's.

She had spent a lot of time wondering what life would have been like if she had said yes to his proposal. They had both loved each other, she felt, even if they did not use those words—why had they been troubled with words that evening? Why had Captain D'Arcy not said _I love you_? Why had she quibbled with him about that? Why had his English side prevailed that evening up on the forecastle?

Lisette had suffered through bouts of anger with him for the corsairs capturing her. She considered where blame was due. S _he_ had run from home, booked passage on his boat and he had certainly done all in his power to save her. She was ashamed now of those feelings. There was not any blame to lay at his feet.

Her largest challenge was how to inspire a renewal of his addresses? Was that possible? Could she appeal to his French side, a side she thought she understood as she herself was half French—the side that listened to grand-mère and wanted to marry for deep and abiding love and not the proper, straight-laced English side all appearances and money and only marrying well.


	28. Chapter 28

_Of all the torments, all the cares;  
With which our lives are curst;  
Of all the plagues a lover bears,  
Sure rivals are the worst!  
By partners in each other kind,  
Afflictions easier grow;  
In love alone we hate to find,  
Companion, of our woe._

 _Sylvia, for all the pages you see  
Are lab'ring in my breast;  
I beg not you would favour me,  
Would you but slight the rest!  
How great soe'er your rigours are,  
With them alone I'll cope;  
I can endure my own despair,  
But not another's hope._

—William Walsh

* * *

When Fitzwilliam-Blake collected D'Arcy that afternoon Miss Bacon was there as well. She had wished to see the marionette show again. Her presence meant he and Henry could not talk privately but D'Arcy did not have anything in particular to say though he had been concerned about all the recent reports of attacks or near-attacks by Bras Pique. He had hoped that Governor Miró would have returned by now and began to consider that the reports of Miró being held against his will might be true. He thought that Havana should be his first stop once leaving New Orleans since he was getting nowhere with the nonsensical interim acting governor.

As soon as they entered the open space at the end of town they were approached by the Irishman Nick Owens who reintroduced himself to their party but seemed especially attentive to Miss Bacon.

"Have you heard about the governor's ball?" Asked the Irishman all eyes for the plump young lady on Henry's arm.

"Oh! Yes," she replied.

"Are you going?" He pressed looking at her with obvious admiration. It seemed to stir something in his cousin who moved Miss Bacon a little closer to him.

"No, we sail the next morning," replied Mary Bacon, "we are to leave quite early, are we not?" She looked wistfully up at Fitzwilliam-Blake. "Otherwise I should love to go. I have never been to a ball. Dances and assemblies, yes, but never a ball!" D'Arcy had not truly considered Fitzwilliam-Blake's passenger; he knew she was a friend to Lisette and he mostly considered her in that context. But he could hear and sense her desire for diversion in her statement.

"All young ladies need to come, all young ladies who know how to dance, do say you will come," said the young man and he looked at her eagerly. "We are always in need of beautiful young ladies for partners you know and you are so beautiful. In New Orleans there are far too many young men!" He laughed with an awkward voice.

"But I have nothing to wear and as I said we are to sail the next morning," she looked up at her captain then. Her English blue eyes had swept from the blue of Owens' to the blue of his cousin's. D'Arcy wondered if there were another spot in New Orleans where three pairs of blue eyes resided give there were so many more dark pairs of eyes in that town.

"We are leaving at dawn on Friday; we have lost so much time off of our schedule already," replied Fitzwilliam-Blake. Her entire countenance changed and she turned her head away from the two men with a down-turned mouth and yet a resigned air. Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake considered her struggles, being companion to Anna, following her cousin across the sea only to lose her and her livelihood and having to return to England. "Perhaps you can come for a few sets?" He ventured.

"Oh! That would be lovely. I can take you," smiled Nick Owens, stepping closer.

"She is under my protection; she shall go with me. I need to ensure she is looked after and gets back to the ship on time. Only a few sets, mind," Fitzwilliam-Blake sounded like a stern father and D'Arcy looked at him and wondered at him even agreeing in the first place.

Nick Owens grinned even wider, "anything, any little time with Miss Bacon would be lovely."

D'Arcy wondered about Nick Owens. He was a colleague of Etienne de Granada which meant he was to be suspected. He was Irish though he was so young so he was probably a son to one of the men who had come with General O'Reilly when he had taken possession of the territory for Spain in 1769. He probably inveigled himself with Etienne de Granada as a way of winning favor with the current acting governor, actions which D'Arcy could not approve of. It was only after considering his dislike of this young man and wondering about his intentions towards Miss Bacon that he looked up in time to see Mademoiselle Adao slap Louis.

* * *

Lisette saw Mary and the two captains but they lingered as had become their want and did not approach in a hurry. They waited for 'Louis' to finish 'his' chores. As she was completing them she thought about her conversation with Rodolfo, about returning to England, and felt guilty about leaving him because she knew it was the voice of the ghost that was garnering money for him and the Leoni family and hoped she would not be depriving him of a now anticipated source of income.

She hoped that Rodolfo, Paolo and Francesca would still be able to find some sort of life in New Orleans. The Leoni family had come from a tiny island in Italy where it had become so crowded—he was the youngest of many brothers—that there was no land; there was family but nothing to go back to, not like Lisette. They had come with open eyes to the New World to seek their fortune and, perhaps, with the extra money that they had made these last few weeks they would be able to purchase some land or begin to engage in some trade that did not have them out in all weathers.

It was as she was considering parting from these friends she had made that she was brought to by looking into the face of that young lady she had met the previous evening, the one who had graced Etienne's arm. The one with the cold, dark eyes. She was taller than Lisette looking down at her scornfully and she did not try to hide a deep bitterness, that lady, Senhorita Adao, as she looked at Louis.

Sol Adao was dressed in cream with a full, wide skirt despite the filthy streets of New Orleans; the dress was exquisite, expensive and trimmed with lace and black ribbon. Her entire portrait was one of black and white with her dark ivory skin and her black hair, and her cream dress with its black trim. She wore no other colors and was flanked by two tall African footmen.

"Even in britches, men follow, even in britches! You are disguised as a boy and yet men follow you and grovel over you," and then the lady slapped Lisette across the cheek.

It was not as painful as the time her father had struck her, but she harkened back to that day at Longbourn in her bedroom so long ago, that time with her father. Lisette felt as though people suddenly all moved with slow and deliberate movements. As though there was that oppressive air pressing down on her right before the hurricane had struck. Movement and thought were sluggish as though the elements, nature herself, were against Lisette then.

So much had changed at the moment her father had struck her, she had been stoic and it had been a game, but that moment had spurned her to leave her home, the one she had grown up in, rather than submit to anything else. This was the home she was considering returning to; the shores of England, but now small doubts crept up, small fears. If rumors of Lisette Bennet had come to New Orleans what would life be like in England? Would it be safe to return to Hertfordshire with Mary or would she hounded and haunted by Mr. Bennet forever on land? Should she remain with Rodolfo in New Orleans so as to be as far away from England as possible? Lisette remembered feeling so small and vulnerable when she had collapsed onto the deck of The Elinor. She felt that way again.

She had been largely responsible for herself and her survival in New Orleans but that sharp slap across the cheek brought back a rush of emotions about this entire trip—her whole adventure. It was difficult to continue on, perpetually alone, and though she was thankful for the friends she had made she could not help a sense of despair and loss of connectivity as she stood in shock and looked at the lady before her.

"What have I done to offend you?" Cried Lisette.

"Stay away from Etienne," said Senhorita Adao.

"I have done nothing! I think you need to tell him to stay away from me," said Lisette still feeling sluggish and confused.

"He is to marry me!" Cried Sol Adao.

"Then you need not fear that he will marry me," said Lisette.

"Why should he want to marry someone like you," and Sol grabbed at her hat and pulled it off and Lisette's braid fell down her back. Lisette went to snatch for her hat but Sol handed it to one of her footman and Lisette gave over attempting to catch it.

"I have no wish to marry Señor de Granada," Lisette cried.

Two or three people had turned at the sound of raised voices and then more and more people turned to view 'the ghost,' and their voices, and then more and more voices murmured, at the ghost's unmasking and Rodolfo came up behind her, and Paolo as well, and she noticed that D'Arcy was near, Fitzwilliam-Blake and Mary Bacon too.

"Why?" Lisette cried standing in her breeches with her hat gone, her hair hanging down for all to see.

"You are nothing, you are just an actress! Go home, stay home!" Sneered the Senhorita.

D'Arcy approached, "Mademoiselle Adao," he glanced at Lisette and then back to Senhorita Adao. "Might I see you home?" And he offered her his arm. Sol Adao looked at him with those cold eyes; she recalled him with the imposter, Etienne's love interest, and she looked at Lisette with a slow smile creeping up on her face. Lisette could not understand what was occurring before her. If anyone needed the offer of an arm it should have been her. Did Captain D'Arcy assume she was still 'in character' playing the role of Louis, and could not be supported here but why would he be paying any attention to Senhorita Adao? She watched with confusion as he approached the lady and she took his arm.

All the horror of her being under lock and key back at Longbourn and again on the corsair ship came to her in a rush as she saw D'Arcy not at her side, comforting her, but she could only see him as Senhorita Adao's lover—he was not her lover—he had eyes apparently for her aggressor this woman who had slapped her. Lisette could not but help the tears that pooled and fell, trailed down her cheeks. There was something on her face that Fitzwilliam-Blake recognized and he turned to the puppeteer and told Rodolfo to take her home.

Sol Adao's eyes shone with triumph and a sense of a game won; she had snagged this man from the impostor's side when D'Arcy had come to her. This captain must like assertive women.

Rodolfo, like the good papa he was, put an arm around Lisette. "Come, _figlia_ , come home."

"You must come back to the ship dearest," cried Mary with a hand on her arm.

"Let your friend help you," said Nick Owens but he was looking pointedly at Mary Bacon.

"I want to go home," whispered Lisette to Rodolfo leaning into him a little.

"Francesca will care for you," said Rodolfo and he began to direct her home.

"Lottie, come back to The Elinor," begged Mary again but Lisette shook her head as she took her first steps home.

"Come _figlia_ , I will take you home and then come back for the cart," said Rodolfo. Nick Owens, looking again at Miss Bacon, offered to help Paolo push the cart home and they followed at a distance. Lisette was hard pressed not to lose herself in her grief but the shock of the entire scene of D'Arcy at Sol Adao's side kept her tears at bay.

Papa Rodolfo led her through the crowds and fended off the gentlemen who were all staring at the unmasked ghost, not a mermaid or a lady in the cart but the second apprentice, a girl dressed in boy's clothes and Rodolfo shielded her with a fierceness, a shepherd protecting his flocks or in this case a lone sheep.

It was almost like a procession—it could have been a parade, a carnival—through the streets, a few drunk men followed the cart still calling for the ghost or the mermaid but there were naughty little boys who tittered around Rodolfo and Lisette calling her rude names. They discovered that Rodolfo Leoni, for all that he had a soft and friendly face, could be stern and yelled for them to beat a retreat to their homes and their mamas lest he box their ears or wallop their behinds. Rodolfo took her home and she was pressed into the care of Francesca who staunched her tears and helped her to bathe her body even if she could not soothe her tormented mind.

* * *

Lisette lost herself in packing to stave off thinking or feeling. She set aside her boy's clothes which she would never need again and donned her flowered pink dress which helped to improve her spirits. The governor's ball was the following evening and she had to decide whether she would truly attend with Etienne. She had made an enemy of his friend, Senhorita Sol Adao, which she did not understand.

She had yet to ask Captain itzwilliam-Blake for space on The Elinor to return to England though Lisette considered with a little arrogance that he would accept her passage if she chose to sail with him on Friday morning. She felt lost at sea. She did not want to stay but had doubts now about leaving. New Orleans was not a place she ever wished to live, however, and she eventually decided she would sail even if she would not necessarily go back to England.

Over their family meal, Lisette asked for more information about Sol Adao. Her friends were reluctant to discuss the young woman. Francesca mentioned that she was actually of Portuguese descent, and also had some French as well. Her family had been living in New Orleans for quite a long time and were considered good creole.

"Is she rich?" Asked Lisette.

"Not particularly rich, no," answered Rodolfo keeping an eye on his plate.

"Is she likely to marry Señor de Granada as she said?" Asked Lisette.

"No, not likely," he answered again and looked at his son and then back to his plate.

"Why? Papa Rodolfo, why did she do such a thing to me today?" Cried Lisette.

Rodolfo was silent, but Paolo looked at her then; he looked far younger than he was. Initially she had taken him to be fifteen or sixteen but he was, in fact twenty with the same family looks, dark and short of stature. "Senhorita Adao is his woman," he offered.

"They were engaged?" But no, apparently they had never been engaged, nor had she ever been married and that was all the family wished to say about Senhorita Adao and Etienne de Granada's relationship. The Leoni family was not one for gossip.

* * *

She had thought things were moving along between Captain D'Arcy and her, slowly—as though he was proving more English than French. But Lisette had been so hard pressed to not give way to deep emotions and had battled tears as she had watched Captain D'Arcy walk off with Senhorita Adao. She could not help but think how improbable such a pairing was—she could not understand why he was speaking to the lady. But their own acquaintance had been full of wild contradictions and varieties of feelings and she wondered at its own continuance. Did she really have any claim on Captain D'Arcy at all? She had, after all, rejected him. It was still painful.

Perhaps she had sunk too low—she thought of wearing men's breeches, her hair up under her cap; perhaps that was too much in his eyes. Perhaps his feelings could not survive the blow of her public unmasking. She was humbled and grieved then as to what her adventuring had brought her, though she could not fault her heart for where it had led.

She could not but respect him, treasure this leader of men who had the confidence of his crew and yet had that sweet, hesitant manner that she had fallen in love with on those days aboard Le Cerf Blanc. Lisette needed a gentleman who did not reach out and grab at her like a tasty morsel of food, a prize to be won, but one who was polite, shy and courteous like he had _ever_ been to her those days. The more she considered Captain Gauthier D'Arcy the more Lisette became aware of a longing in her heart she had never known, a burning that ran down to her gut whenever she thought of him. She realized that was what she had set out to find—love, and love alone, but she had spoiled it, spoiled her chances somehow.

She felt flattened, destroyed and resigned. Like she needed to surrender more so than she ever did on the corsair ship, yield to a life she had not truly imagined or shaped or charged for herself. Was love to be the ruin of her? To have found it and to be destroyed by it? She was almost too distracted to cry. There was creeping numbness that came over her. She thought of her family, her mother and sisters, even her father, and felt more lonely than she had ever been. Lisette was so far away from them, half-way around the world from anyone who truly loved her and it felt like the entire adventure had ended in hopelessness. She should just go home. Perhaps the security and yet repugnance of being Mrs. Collins would make up for the torture her heart felt alternating between despair and ecstasy, grief and elation at thoughts of Captain D'Arcy.

She repented, though she hardly knew of what.

* * *

They were not going to set up the marionette stand that day; the whole town was in preparations for the governor's ball. Though only a small set of people were invited to the de Granada Plantation for the festivities, everyone in town was quite happy to celebrate the occasion with taverns offering special fare. Most men began their drinking extra early. Every establishment was open and small impromptu ones lined the streets as well.

Lisette could hear the voices of celebrants as she finished her packing. She had purchased a small trunk, second hand—she had learned how to be frugal—and it lay awaiting orders. Though there would be room on the ship, she decided to leave the bathtub with Francesca.

Francesca helped her into the blue silk dress and the blue necklace was clasped round her neck. Her dark hair was styled simply.

"I wish you well, _figlia_ ," said Rodolfo when she was finished and they had all gathered in the kitchen to see Lisette off for good.

"I thank you," she replied. "In my month in New Orleans you have formed the best part of it. I certainly do not know how I should have fared without you, dear Papa Rodolfo."

"You have been a blessing to us, _figlia_ , we have made over half a year's pay in less than a month which has done us well!" Replied the Italian puppeteer. "Now you are certain you do not want to go straight to your boat?"

"No, I wish to attend the ball."

She had, until the afternoon before and her unmasking, waffled about attending the governor's ball with Etienne, but was more inclined to go now that she had discovered that Captain D'Arcy was no longer her admirer. She wished to enjoy herself before her long sea voyage home.

"Do be careful about Señor de Granada, daughter," Rodolfo warned one last time.


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: I have decided to post the entire governor's ball today. This means there will be no Wednesday update. Back to high-seas drama on Friday. (See, not so evil.)

* * *

 _The nymph that undoes me is fair and unkind;_

 _No less than a wonder by nature design'd;  
She's the grief of my heart, the joy of my eyes,  
And the cause of a flame that never can die;  
The cause of a flame that never can die._

* * *

Chapter 29

Etienne collected Lisette from the Leoni household in a small carriage. His wide, beautiful smile was there and that smile, that mouth had pretty words that poured over her as though an additional layer of dress, yet another gift from this man, the acting governor's son. Etienne was dressed in a heavily embroidered waistcoat and jacket in shades of black and white with touches of blue that exactly matched her dress. Lisette wondered if that choice had been deliberate and she suspected it was. A small part of her also wondered if the fabric had been originally purchased for Sol Adao but then gave over considering that fact.

The roads were terrible around New Orleans as it was surrounded on three sides by swamps so Etienne escorted her to the wharf to take her up river up a flat boat quite like a barge and Lisette though of Henry the VIII and his royal entourage making forays up the Thames in similar fashion—another one of those long-ago lessons with her Uncle Philips. Torches had lined the streets on their way to the wharf and were also all along the wharf and everywhere the streets were crowded as revelers gathered to celebrate the occasion though so few were actually attending the ball.

Señor de Granada was gentleman-like the entire trip, sharing anecdotes of his ship-board adventures and of his time in Spain. He spoke of returning again to Spain and there were subtle little hints that she too might be coming as well to see his beloved Madrid. Lisette understood the hints and attempted to put off her suitor by at least speaking of having seen San Sebastián which greatly delighted him.

The governor's plantation had a large dock, it was, after all, a commercial establishment more than a home and her escort kept a secure hand on her arm as he lead her away from the river and up to the small grounds near the house which lay a little ways from the dock. Torches blazed at close intervals here as well though there were though few people outside. The plantation house itself was large, the largest building Lisette had seen in New Orleans.

The hall inside was massive and packed with people all bedecked in their finest clothes. Despite the bugs, most wore wigs and Lisette with her dark, untouched hair was the exception. While there were some men who did not sport a wig or had not powdered their hair, she could not spy any single woman without powdered hair so her dark tresses made her stand out. Etienne maintained his grip on her arm and navigated the crowds like a hunter with a trophy smiling and waving with his free hand and introducing Lisette every fourth step to new acquaintance.

It seemed not to matter that she had been unmasked as the ghost in Master Rodolfo's marionette cart the day before but the attendees at the governor's ball all dutifully flocked to Etienne de Granada's side to meet the lady on his arm. Perhaps the people did not know that Señor de Granada's lady was also the same lady who dressed in breeches and sang as the voice of the jinni. Lisette wondered that it had tainted her in Captain D'Arcy's eyes but not in the eyes of this crowd.

Beyond the hall was a large room where the crowd was thinner with room in the middle available for sets for dancing, and Lisette could see a second floor balcony where men, all dark-skinned, gathered ready to play. Etienne noticed where her eyes had glanced. "All free men," he assured her but she did not know why he needed to reassure her on that point.

In the middle of the ballroom stood a man wearing an out of date wig, quite an elaborate one with curls hanging down his shoulders. He was dressed in the same embroidered way as his son and leaned on a beautiful walking stick; Etienne introduced Lisette to his father.

"Papa, this is the lady of whom I have spoken," he said as he bowed before the acting governor and he loosed his grip on Lisette, for once holding her by the hand as he held her at arm's length in pride of place before his father. "Governor Estèban de Granada y Jorda, may I introduce Señorita Lottie Philips."

The bewigged man was an older version of his son and had the same wide smile, almost a greedy one, as he too bowed before Lisette as she curtsied to her host.

"A pleasure, Sir," she called, and then took the hand that the acting governor reached out to her as though he was royalty and permitting her to rise from her genuflection.

"You are delightful!" Cried the elder de Granada retaining her hand. "Walk with me," and they left Etienne behind and paced slowly towards the musician's balcony his stick clicking on the floor tiles. "You are a pretty little thing. Etienne speaks of nothing else, my dear." He spoke with a familiarity despite their introduction of moments before. "I cannot tell you how delighted I am that you have my son so in raptures!" Lisette felt as though he might be describing a new carriage rather than a new acquaintance and could not help but purse her lips, perhaps she had been mistaken to have come for an evening of diversion to the governor's ball. The older man held her at arm's length just as his son had done. "My, you are entrancing and so daring with your hair!" His eyes had trailed her from her hemline up to her hair with its simple style though there were a few curls that Francesca had coaxed out to frame her face and neck. She had no reply to his speeches.

Etienne came to claim her then and others pressed in to their little grouping besides, calling for more introductions and the two men, father and son, laughed and she met more of the elite of New Orleans society as they waited underneath the musician's gallery for the dancing to begin. She had been given no dance card but knew she would be dancing with Etienne for the first sets and wondered how she would keep the others straight as it seemed every man she was introduced to asked her to reserve a dance for him.

His hand was on her waist as soon as the first note was played and he led Lisette to the top of a set at the top of the hall. Etienne de Granada was one of the most attentive dance partners she had ever had. He danced beautifully and with a grace and elegance that proclaimed that he indulged in dancing often and had been frequently at it when he had been in Spain and he mentioned that fact to Lisette. Many eyes in the room followed them in their set. While he spoke to their neighbors when required, his attentions were fixed markedly on her and she thought back to her father's parties, before Lydie had run away, and the marked attentions of the gentlemen who had attended them hoping to court her father's favor by paying attention to her.

At one point he had her hand clasped in hers and had raised it high, as the dance required and said softly, "do tell me you are Lisette Bennet," he looked directly into her eyes, his black eyes taking in her dark brown ones, their eyes locking together for a moment before their hands dropped and they looked away, out into the audience, again as the dance required.

"I think you must be mistaken," she answered with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

"I know that you are well-bred, mi amor, you carry yourself like a lady born to a mansion," he said as he paced around her, "I find it quite interesting that you have landed in my city, my highly talented, musical lady who dances a high-born dance without a stumble," and he caught her eyes again. Lisette could not but look away from Etienne de Granada's penetrating gaze. She had not expected to be playing such a game that evening and despite the multiple warnings from Papa Rodolfo, even Captain D'Arcy, she had been caught off-guard. She curled her toes in her dance slippers and could not help her shoulders stiffening but then turned to gaze back at him.

"Perhaps my papa is higher born than a puppeteer," she replied with as much indifference as she could and then smiled using her card-winning smile but this time rather than unnerving him, it made Etienne de Granada grin and stifle a laugh.

As she stood waiting for the second couple in the set she saw Captain D'Arcy's tall form enter the room with Senhorita Adao on his arm, his cousin Fitzwilliam-Blake following with Lisette's friend Miss Bacon. Lisette felt her whole body stiffen then and her shoulders rise up as she followed Captain D'Arcy and his lady around the edges of the ballroom. Senhorita Adao was dressed in black and was, like Lisette, not wearing a wig so had maintained the stark portrait of once again being in black and white. Her black dress had white and gold embroidery but with far more minimal adornment than most of the other ladies; the effect was that Sol Adao stood out in her black dress with her black hair and ivory skin. Sol stopped to speak to many people with Captain D'Arcy a patient guard at her side. Lisette lost track of her friend Miss Bacon as she could only stare at her rival.

When their set of dances was over, Etienne retained her arm and seemed reluctant to let go of her attentions. Many men came up to claim their promised dances and eventually Lisette found herself on the arm of a young gentleman, a tall French-speaking man. There was such a disparity of the number of men to the number of women that she thought about al ofl the dances she had attended in England where it seemed that women were always in want of partners. Here in New Orleans there was the opposite problem where there was a lack of young women and Lisette feared she would never be able to beg off dancing to sit and recover from the shock of seeing Captain D'Arcy escorting someone other than herself.

When her second set of dances was over she was once again beset by admirers and she looked around for a familiar face and somehow Captain D'Arcy was at her side, appearing out of the crowd suddenly as he had done on Le Cerf Blanc, there at her shoulder, and asked her to dance. Lisette considered refusing his request but thought it might be her last opportunity to speak to him and her heart thumped in betrayal at that idea and she agreed to his application.

Despite gloves on her hands she was thrilled with the touch of her hand in his own and they moved through the dance at first without speaking to each other but simply drinking in each other's eyes.

"You look beautiful, Lisette," he said finally in a soft voice as he bowed over her hand.

"I thank you," she whispered. Her mind whirled with wonder that he had asked her to dance and yet she wondered why he had come with her rival and feeling quite uncertain how she felt at that moment as she gazed up at him.

"I wanted to tell you that," he paused and seemed to swallow his words, "I wanted to tell you that you will always be my friend and I want you to know I will always look out for you."

She frowned at him not understanding his words, his intended meaning: _he was her friend but would look out for her_ ; it was as if he was putting himself in the same corner as John Lucas and it was not where she had pictured him.

"I will do what I can to keep you safe," he was saying and she realized she had not paid him complete attention so lost in her own thoughts and disappointments over this turn in their relationship.

"Pardon?" She said. They were at the end of the line of dancers and he queried her with his eyebrow and she nodded and he pealed them off of the set and out through a set of doors into the cool night air outside.

"I fear your admirers will wish you back soon," said Captain D'Arcy. "I am surprised I was able to obtain your hand for a dance," he still retained that hand in his and tucked it under his arm.

"What did you mean about keeping me safe?" She asked. Though there were torches outside his face was cast in shadows and Lisette could not read anything on it.

"There have been rumors in town about men seeking to kidnap the heiress, Lisette Bennet, and returning her to England," Lisette could not help but grip his arm tighter.

"But no one besides you and Rodolfo know who I am," she whispered with a tremor in her voice.

"I am afraid there are many who now suspect that the unmasked 'ghost' in Rodolfo's puppet show is the missing heiress," he let go of her arm and stepped away to look down at her but still with an impassive face. "But I will always protect you."

Lisette felt overwhelmed by the entire evening's events. She had wished, almost as soon as she had arrived at the ball, to not have come given Etienne de Granada's hints about his intentions towards her. But the behavior of Captain D'Arcy was proving worse. She could always say no to another marriage proposal, but to have Captain D'Arcy arrive with another lady on his arm and then to have this rather level-headed discussion with him, with his espousing his friendship and offering his services as her guard but not espousing his love to her was painful, physically painful. Her chest hurt; it crimped and contracted in spasms as she only partially listened to his words and realized what she had lost. Lisette constructed a fence around her heart then in response as a sort of defense though another part of her might wish for her heart's desire.

"I will be perfectly safe. I have made it across the world by myself, Captain D'Arcy. I believe I do not need your help," she replied with firmness, "if you will escort me back inside to my admirers." He stood standing over her without moving and she could not read anything on his face though he might be battling emotions underneath, nothing showed; his face was impassive.

"As you wish," he replied and held out his arm and they walked back into to the warmth and the light of the ballroom where Mary Bacon was talking to Nick Owens. Captain D'Arcy bowed faintly to her and left.

"Lottie!" Cried her friend. "This is all so much fun, and there are some interesting dances I do not know, some French dances and I suspect Spanish ones as well!" Miss Bacon had obtained a new dress for the occasion and the happiness at stepping out of her roll of companion was plainly etched on her face as she grasped her friend's hands. She had followed tradition and her dark blond hair had been powdered, though her spectacles still graced her nose. They paced around the room with men following in their wake which gave Lisette time to distract herself from her conversation with Captain D'Arcy and the feelings that had been stirred up by it.

"Two lovely ladies!" Cried a voice and the governor was there appraising the two English ladies before him. "Miss Philips you must introduce me to your friend!" The governor was eyeing Miss Bacon as though some prize or a piece of jewelry whose value he needed to assess. Lisette made the introductions. Nick Owens, always at the edge of their group looked disappointed. "I am not normally one for dancing, Miss Bacon, but would you turn about the dance floor with me?" The governor asked Lisette's friend and Mary left to dance with him making Lisette to wonder at his actions; did every man that evening had ulterior motives?

As soon as Mary Bacon left her side, Lisette was beset with repeated requests for her hand and she danced another set with a new gentleman, this one a Spanish gentleman whose French was peppered with his native language. Etienne de Granada collected her when the sets were over and tucked her hand tightly under his and led her to the top of the room underneath the minstrel's balcony. The room was filled with light and people and the noise of the musician's playing, but Etienne stopped directly underneath that gallery with the sound welling down on them and then twirled her out from under his arm to stand so they were facing each other, her left hand clasped in his right. They formed no part of a dance set and were a little apart from their closest neighbors yet Lisette felt as though all eyes in the room were on them just then.

"Miss Lottie Philips, you would make me the happiest of men if you would agree to be my wife," said Etienne gazing into her eyes. His face had not its usual amused countenance but was serious as he captured her eyes and expressed himself; he was a little in love with her, she could see that, but Lisette strongly felt there were other motivations for Etienne de Granada y Patron to be making her an offer of marriage, especially in such a public fashion.

Lisette had anticipated an offer of marriage, she had simply not expected it to be in such a public manner and had to pull on her skills to respond rather than give in to the desire to look around for her friends and to spy and see who was observing them and had overheard—though she could only assume that Etienne's offer would be known in every corner of the ballroom in five minutes. She took a step in towards him, closing the gap between them that they could speak more intimately and perhaps not be as overheard though no matter what her answer it too would be known within minutes. Lisette placed her free hand on his chest and a little fire kindled in de Granada's eyes at that small touch.

"I am flattered, Señor, and I thank you, greatly thank you," and her own smile was flashed at him. "I do have a small concern about a certain lady, Senhorita Adao. I had heard that you were to, perhaps, marry her," she let that hand on his chest fall down to her side.

His eyes, face and form betrayed nothing as he looked at her but maintained that serious countenance showing as much love as he had for her on his face, "I cared for her once, but no longer. I have a heart and mind and soul devoted only to you, Miss Lottie, only to you. _Eres la mujer de mis sueños_."

His hand brought her own up to his lips to place a kiss on it, and his eyes did sparkle though if in amusement or love she could not discern.

"I am flattered, Señor," she said again locking eyes with him and wondering how to play this game, "may I consider my answer and tell you at the end of the evening?" She asked still keeping his eyes fixed to hers and looking nowhere else. Her brow raised a little as she asked for time, and a small smile was there on her lips and his eyes did dart down then to those lips and back up.

"I will die a slow death until I hear your answer," he replied and kissed her hand again. He then turned and positioned himself by her side and they stood at the head of the ballroom. Lisette looked out and saw, or rather felt, the eyes and postures of all the nearby people who had heard or guessed Etienne de Granada's business with her. Though there were couples on the dance floor the more exciting entertainment was passed by the bowed heads as the news of his offer made its way around the room.

Men came and pressed her for her hand on the dance floor and Etienne reluctantly let her go for a French pavanne whose steps she was not as familiar with, but whose partner, another gentleman of French decent, was happy to instruct her on. They had finished the first set and were the last couple when she heard a familiar, deep voice and saw the tall form of Captain D'Arcy with his arm around a weeping woman, a woman in black, as they moved hurriedly through those same doors to the garden that she and he had met in earlier.

It was Sol Adao in his arms and Lisette felt a hole open up in her insides and her heart sink through it as she watched them disappear outside. She pulled her hand free from her partner to put it to her forehead. "I fear I am overheated, pray excuse me," and she fled with no other excuse or warning and followed the pair outside.

Captain D'Arcy and Sol Adao had disappeared into the shadows and Lisette could hear the sounds of crying. The garden was small and there was not a lot of flora to hide behind so she could not creep too near the couple but Sol's voice carried over to her. Lisette could only hide behind a large dense bush and listen to them but could not watch them.

"…abandoned me entirely! I am on my own and without a protector now! What am I to do?" Cried the young woman.

Captain D'Arcy made soothing noises and Lisette could only imagine him holding the woman in his arms, her being comforted which made tears come to Lisette's eyes.

"You have been so good to me, Captain Gauthier D'Arcy," said Sol, "you understand me, entirely," her voice changed its timbre and almost became a cat's purr. "I hear your captain friend calls you Guy, may I call you Guy?" Whispered Sol.

"Yes," answered D'Arcy and there was some movement between them and Lisette could only imagine that with this woman who had no English in her, no restrained side, who was a passionate hot-blooded Portuguese woman inspired Captain D'Arcy's French side. Lisette's imaginings then included a kiss, that kiss she herself had longed for when he had proposed to her those many months ago. Her own tears fell even faster and Lisette turned and fled back inside as she wiped and blotted her eyes to find her friend Mary and Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake and to simply abandon the night and to flee. She was ready to leave New Orleans and never see Captain D'Arcy again.

She looked in vain for her friends and had difficulty navigating the room as once again her admirers beset her for dances. Lisette spied Nick Owens by himself with a melancholy look on his face and she approached him to ask where Miss Bacon was. He indicated that Mary and The Elinor's captain had headed for the ship since they were to leave first thing in the morning; they had intended to only stay for part of the evening. Lisette could sympathize with the morose man before her; they were both alone and dejected and friendless—the object of their hearts had flown—and it was then that Etienne came to claim her for supper.

"Yes!" Lisette declared as he touched her elbow and she turned to look at him, "yes I will marry you!" She lowered her voice, " _and_ I am Lisette Bennet," she said with a certain fire in her as she faced him. He was surprised only for an instant and then clasping both hands pressed kisses on them.

"Papa!" Called Etienne over the crowds and the music, and he put a firm arm around Lisette's waist, "Papa, I am to marry!" All the crowds around them turned at the announcement; couples dancing near them stopped to turn and hear the news which meant soon the whole ballroom had stopped dancing and were staring at Etienne and Lisette. The elder Señor de Granada appeared and a laughing Etienne declared his news yet again lest people in the farthest corners had not heard it then he pulled her to him, tilting her back in his arms to kiss her fervently on the lips as the entire room burst into applause.

A dizzy and bedazzled Lisette was then escorted triumphantly to supper while people continued to cheer. She did not see the two figures, just back from the gardens—and some of the few who did not clap—standing both with white faces just inside the door but following the procession as it headed in for supper.

A large portion of the room filed after them; there was a bottleneck at the far arched doorway that led to the entrance hall where people slowly paced up the stairs to the supper rooms all the while talking about this engagement. The two figures stood still and made no further movement after having witnessed that kiss. Captain D'Arcy was still and without any emotion, pale of face and looking quite English in his coloring as he looked at the spot where the most interesting scene of the evening had just taken place and wondered how he had lost her.

He was at war with himself and his duty. His mission here had been unsuccessful since the true governor, Esteban Miró, had not returned and the acting governor—that fop—Rémy de Granada had refused to work with him despite his credentials from the French government.

D'Arcy watched the procession from the room as the people trailed away to supper. He had lost so much; there was absolutely no hope for him with Lisette having declared herself to another. It was the pirates invading his ship all over again and stealing her away; numbness was snaking over him as he watched that happy procession of people.

"Senhor," purred a voice at his side. "I have something to share with you."

Captain D'Arcy turned to this companion who had proved far more overwrought and not as helpful as he had hoped. He had suspected that Etienne de Granada had black market dealings and was involved with some of the pirates in the Gulf, but his small attentions to Mademoiselle Adao had not yielded any results and he had only come to regret his attentions to her. Especially after Henry had rebuked him about his attempting to separate the two women after Sol Adao's unmasking of Lisette—and attempting to use the situation to D'Arcy's advantage—that it had actually been quite harmful to Lisette, it had stirred up painful memories for her.

Sol Adao reached out to clasp his arm in a firm grip. She was not looking at him but, like D'Arcy, across the room at the thinning crowd. "Etienne de Granada is a traitor to his country," she snarled.

"Yes?" He prompted.

"He is a pirate—Etienne is the pirate Bras Pique!" She hissed as the man in question, with Lisette gracing his arm, disappeared from view, cut off by the top of the archway of the door as they made their way up the stairs.

D'Arcy stood frozen as he realized it _was_ an exact repeat of the incident from before; a pirate stealing Lisette from him. He moved quickly then, shaking off Sol's arm and across the room and into the hall where the crush of people prevented him from pressing his way through. Lisette was on the landing above with Etienne and his father about to enter another room.

"Lottie—Elisabetta!" He called up through the noise of the feet and the voices, the rustle of skirts and laughter. He could see her still on her fiancé's arm and then she turned to look down at the hall below her and found him, secured his eyes instantly.

 _Over the mountains and over the waves,  
Under the fountains and under the graves,  
Under the floods that are deepest,  
Which Neptune obey,  
Over the rocks that are steepest,  
Love will find out the way._

His voice was clear and a deep baritone and D'Arcy saw her clutch at the railing as she looked at him. Etienne put an arm around her as if to help her to stay on her feet.

"Mi amor, it seems I have a rival," cried Etienne, "or is he simply wishing us well?" He pulled Lisette a little closer to him.

"I think he is wishing us well," answered Lisette with a face that seemed more mask than anything else.

"Ah! One of your admirers, sending you off in similar fashion since he enjoyed hearing you sing in the streets and will, no doubt, miss your singing now that you are to marry me!" Etienne nodded down to Captain D'Arcy and made a faint gesture, pressed a kiss on Lisette's cheek and proceeded to turn the two of them around and they entered the supper room.

"Ma avenir," whispered D'Arcy as he watched her disappear without a struggle this time; his declaration in front of another crowd had not affected her in any way. He thought how improbable it was that they should ever see each other again. Those happiest weeks on his ship; the happiest moments he had ever known, could they never return to those days? Not with a woman who had just declared herself to another man. He turned and retraced his steps back into the mostly empty ballroom. If people eyed him as he went, he did not notice or hear any of the whispered comments.

Sol Adao stood where he had parted from her, her face dark and angry at his departure and with his display in front of Lisette, but he stopped in front of her again and bowed.

"Mademoiselle," and he took up her hand with every charm he could command, "you said Etienne de Granada was the pirate Bras Pique? Do tell me more." And the lady before him smiled, her brow unfurled as her hand slipped back into his with possessiveness.

"He has tattoos of pikes on his upper arms, you know—childish really, he is a silly boy—crossed pikes though he always uses cannons and swords when he is in battle," and the pair walked off as D'Arcy coaxed information from this jealous lady and he attempted to shut off all thoughts of Lisette and finish his mission.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

* * *

Hundreds of candles burned in the supper room and the smells of the dishes and the multitude of voices all whirled around Lisette who sat and talked, drank and laughed with Etienne and his father and it was like that last party at Longbourn, Jeannette's wedding celebration before Lydie had run away—all fun and frivolity, high spirits and games and flirting—though underneath Lisette felt dead inside. She had thought she had lost him to Senhorita Adao and in a fit of jealousy had not heeded to her own rules and accepted Señor de Granada's marriage proposal.

And then Captain D'Arcy had stood below her in the hall; his eyes had found hers, she had heard him call to her instantly despite all the noise there of people, movement and noise swirling around them. Lisette had often imagined what sort of singing voice he had, but her imagination had fallen short of that deep, rich, clear voice that had floated up to her and made her stumble where she stood next to Etienne, her knees weakening underneath her. She had not known how to respond to such a declaration it had stunned her, struck her deaf and dumb.

"Love will find out the way," he had said to her and she had felt then that she was again in the arms of the corsairs and needed to find a way free that she could return to Captain D'Arcy. Everything around her was a mere illusion and Lisette needed to find her way out of the supper room and to find Captain D'Arcy. She had been only able to stare blankly down at him in wonder and nod and agree with whatever Etienne had said to her, she was so overcome by D'Arcy's singing she had not headed Etienne's words.

She added to that illusion; Lisette smiled, flashed her card-winning smile, laughed with her fiancé, reached out a hand to touch Rémy de Granada's hand in a moment of intimacy as she played the great game and kept considering the moves in her head for disentangling herself from her current situation.

The two gentlemen at her side spoke of wedding plans with a speed and with details that put her father and Cousin Collins to shame. She was to move in immediately with her future father-in-law, to stay here at the plantation; they could be married in days. Wedding finery was already available, new clothes had been brought back for the gentlemen from Spain and what better place to wear them than to a wedding? And Madame Clémence could spin her web and weave something for Lisette in a matter of days. It felt like being caught in a spider's web as she sat and pushed food around on her plate and nodded and agreed, graciously, to everything that was put before her.

Murmurs ran through the room as Senhorita Adao floated into it, her stark dress and hair in such contrast to the pastel colors and powdered hair of most of the women. Heads bowed in conversation as the lady passed by walking towards the head table where the two de Granada men and Lisette sat. She chose a seat quite near the trio and chose a few options from the multitude of items before her and ate with delicate fingers. Her eyes were not for her food, however, but her seat and the angle of her chair fixed her so she could sit and stare at Etienne and Lisette. Lisette could feel Sol's eyes on her as the woman ate the food on her plate but kept at her vigil as though a vulture eyeing her prey.

"You are Lisette Bennet and not 'Lottie,'" said the senior de Granada to her. His eyes had that same hungry look that graced Senhorita Adao's eyes.

"Yes," she answered. "I have, however, run from my family home." Could she explain this, her situation, as a way to untangle her affairs?

"Run?" An eyebrow shot up. "Why would you run from your family? If the rumors are true, they are looking for you and have offered a reward for you. Is that not a sign that your family is concerned about you, my dear?" Said the governor.

"They are looking for me. It does not mean that they are concerned for me," she answered. "My father only wishes me home that I might marry a man of his choosing."

That caused Señor de Granada to stare blankly at her; there was no surprise, no shock on his face but his mind was considering many different ideas at once.

"Let us return to the dancing, mi amor," purred Etienne into her ear. Lisette nodded and they rose to depart.

Her attentive fiancé claimed another set of dances and Lisette painted on her best face as she danced and flirted with him all the while she kept her eyes scanning the room for Captain D'Arcy; she did not spy him. Etienne refused to release her hand to any other admirer and kept a tight grip on her arm after their dances escorting her around the floor. She spoke politely and with animation to everyone she encountered but still she saw nothing of the person she was hoping to see. Lisette did see Senhorita Adao return from the supper rooms and flit around the sides of the ballroom, either refusing to dance or men were not asking her to as she never graced the dance floor. The only man she stopped to speak to was Nick Owens.

It was only when the last dance set was announced that a tall gentleman in dark clothes walked through the arched doorway. Eagerness tingled through her skin as she watched him step past that arched opening and stop and look around. 'I am here,' thought Lisette, 'look at me.' But Captain D'Arcy scanned the room with a calm demeanor, a nonchalance that would have pleased her corsair tormentor and though he gazed right at her standing out with her deep blue dress and her dark, unpowdered hair, he did not acknowledge her in anyway his eyes skipped over her and alighted on Sol Adao. He smiled then when he saw that black and white figure and began to move towards the Senhorita.

Lisette could not conceal her dismay as she watched the marked preference his feet made—his choice—in that room again, despite his song. Had she mistaken his song and could he have meant, as Etienne had implied, that he was only wishing her well? Love had found its way and for Captain D'Arcy that had meant Sol Adao; and he was apparently only wishing her well with Etienne de Granada despite previous warnings against the man. She turned her eyes away from them that she did not have to witness their reunion and continued to grace the arm of Etienne as they moved slowly through the crowds accepting congratulations. D'Arcy had said earlier that evening that he would be her friend—had it simply been a friendly gesture his song to her?

* * *

He still felt embroiled inside but he thought he had now set in motion enough events that he could corner his rat. Captain D'Arcy had cooed and pampered Senhorita Adao and finally coaxed a few more helpful details out of the simpering woman before he had flown out into the night and back down to the small boat he had used to come up from the New Orleans harbor. Le Cerf Blanc men waited there and he sent them back down river with orders to his lieutenants. He had been thankful that Cartier had come along since he had no writing instruments and had to rely on verbal commands and men he could trust.

He had two tasks that evening: how to arrest Bras Pique—who was the governor's son, which explained a lot of the difficulties in tracking him—and how to rescue Lisette.

* * *

It felt like the middle of the night, it was past midnight for sure, likely later. The dancing was over and yet there was to be a second supper as if all that dancing made everyone hungry again. This supper included a great deal of wine. Etienne was less at her side as he moved about speaking to others, seeking further congratulations. Lisette was still surrounded by her admirers, as D'Arcy called them, and conversed and flirted even—the number of men to women was still high. Rémy de Granada was moving slower; she considered he was an older man, and the lateness of the hour had to have taken a toll on him.

She eschewed drinking any more wine and kept her head clear. Lisette knew she had been rash in accepting Etienne's offer and could not go through with the marriage. She thought about simply running away, escaping into the night and onto Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake's ship. She would be weeks out to sea before word came to her of any news from New Orleans. But she considered that running without breaking off her engagement—an engagement made before hundreds of people—would be wrong. So she sought out her fiancé in the crowd. Etienne was seated at a table with plates and glasses surrounding him; he also had a number of young ladies seated next to him, an unfair number.

"Señor," she called to him, "might we speak?"

"Mi amor, of course," he said smiling up at her, "my friends will you excuse me?" He nodded to the ladies around the table. Etienne offered her his arm which she took. "My darling, this has been the happiest day of my life," he declared as they walked between the tables in the supper room. Lisette frowned at his opening statement then.

"Might we go outside and speak privately, Señor?" She asked. He looked over at her and her tone but smiled and nodded and they trailed out of the supper room, down the stairs and then out through the ballroom. He kept up a commentary the entire time; he was well versed in small talk, like his dancing skills he had been raised to move in social circles.

The night air was cold now and her exposed skin chilled quickly and Lisette shivered. This was her third foray into the garden that evening. Her previous two encounters had been difficult and unpleasant; this one was likely to follow the same pattern.

"Señor de Granada," she began.

"Etienne, my darling, please call me Etienne," they always spoke in French, she realized. Neither of them spoke in their first language, and though she had always been spoken to in French by her grand-mère, Lisette considered English her native language. It was just another reason why they would not suit, to be forever communicating in different languages.

"Etienne, I have been considering our marriage, your proposal, and I believe I may have been hasty in my acceptance," she came right to her point. "I am not convinced that a marriage between us would work, Señor."

"My darling!" He turned her so they were facing and put a hand around her waist, "we will make it work, I am assured of that. You are the woman of my dreams," he leaned in as if to kiss her but she forestalled him with a hand on his chest.

"A dream woman is not a good ideal for a marriage. I do hope you are not counting on my having a dowry, Señor, as I need to inform you that I have none," she said with her hand still planted firmly on his chest.

"You are an heiress, mi amor, there is a reward for your return is there not?" He asked looking at her. He tightened his grip around her waist and brought his free hand to touch her face. "Why would there be a reward for you if you were not an heiress?"

"Because my father wants me home so he can force me to marry his heir, that is why. If I do not marry a man of his choosing then I receive no money, no dowry," she raised an eyebrow though perhaps he could not see it in the darkness of the garden at that time of night.

"You are so lovely, Lisette," and his lips pressed a kiss on her forehead, "do not release me." Those lips trailed down to her cheek and she thought then she had mistaken how much in love he was with her; she knew what an error she had made in coming to the ball, she had known for hours what poor judgment she had shown and how much she should have listened to Papa Rodolfo.

"Señor Etienne, I cannot marry. I do not love you," she said with firmness. 'I love someone else,' she thought to herself. Though she also considered how unlikely it was that that love would ever bloom into fruition.

"Mi amor," said those lips which were at her ears then, "if you are to part from me, would you at least sing for me before you go?" He pressed another kiss on her cheek, one dangerously close to her lips. Lisette pulled back from his kiss.

"Yes I will sing for you," and she disentangled herself from his arms to stand an arm's length away.

 _Saw you the nymph whom I adore?  
Saw you the goddess of my heart?  
And can you bid me love no more?  
Or can you think I feel no smart?  
And can you bid me love no more?  
Or can you think I feel no smart?_

Lisette sang in English though Etienne did not show any surprise at her short song of parting. She did not know how much English he understood but he gazed with a small smile on his face that broadened into his usual one when she was done. They stood silent for many moments before he suddenly closed the gap between them and clasping her once again, he leaned her back for a passionate kiss; a repeat of the one he had given her in front of the crowds when she had originally accepted his marriage proposal.

"I do not wish to give you up," he said looking at her. His voice lowered, "but I will abide by your wishes."

"Thank you," said Lisette who nodded to him and then hurried past him, through those dark gardens, and back inside.

She considered the different kisses she had received since the beginning of the summer. Kisses from an Englishman, a Frenchman and now a Spaniard, Lisette thought she preferred French kisses the most. Though she could only imagine how a certain Frenchman kissed if his singing affected her so much that she found she could not stand, what would his kisses be like?

* * *

Captain D'Arcy moved slowly through the rooms of the de Granada estate. His men were ensconced outside waiting his orders. St. Denis and Carbonneau had done well with speaking to The Cabildo and garnering support for his actions. Perhaps it helped his cause that Rémy de Granada had not been a popular interim governor while Miró was away. The new series of attacks against local ships and merchants and the idea that they were carried out by someone so high up had angered many on that ruling body. Bras Pique might have taken cargo from ships belonging to Cabildo members, D'Arcy could not be at all sure whether their own interests or those of the territory were utmost.

Sol Adao had been adamant when he spoke to her again about Etienne de Granada bearing tattoos of crossed pikes on his upper arms; she had seen them when they were together. D'Arcy had discreetly asked around and there had been one or two rumors to that effect as well though looking at the bare arms of your attacker while under cannon fire or in battle was not what most men thought to do. But D'Arcy felt confident in his ability to arrest Etienne de Granada with such knowledge and with the backing of The Cabildo.

He watched the young man who, to his surprise, left Lisette's side at the post-dance supper and flitted among the tables flirting with any of the young women who were seated at them; it made D'Arcy narrow his eyes that he would be so disgraceful, impetuous, and injurious to his fiancée that he would flirt with another woman, that he could consider anyone else but the exquisite and talented Lisette.

He was angry, livid with her and this jackanapes; he could not understand her choice in selecting this imposter when she had rejected him. She must not be married already, a small fear he had once had, but he had come, since being in New Orleans, to fill in her background. Lisette—not Elisabetta—had shared her name with him that evening they, he, his cousin and her friend had supper together. And then he had begun to hear whispers on the dockside and in tavern corners of a kingly ransom being offered for an heiress to be returned to her family in England, one Lisette Bennet. He wondered why her family offered the reward and what had made her leave her home? D'Arcy had to admit that his cousin might have had the measure of her, an English lady fleeing from trying circumstances and doing the best she could. She was so unusual, not like any woman he had ever known.

Etienne had settled at a table with five laughing ladies smiling, pouting, flirting and even touching him when he saw Lisette approach her fiancé. He could not hear the words but the two of them excused themselves and walked away and then left the room entirely. D'Arcy sat for many minutes; to follow the pair was to potentially see and interrupt scenes he did not wish to come upon but he was determined to keep an eye on his prey so after stealing himself he rose and followed.

He did not spy them in the hall or the ballroom and spent many worried moments considering they had retired to some private room, D'Arcy had no wish to further pursue them if such was the case. He could not, however, arrest Etienne de Granada if he did not confront him. Captain D'Arcy moved through the ballroom to the doors leading out into the garden as if by instinct, as if he could detect her presence even though parted by crowds, structures, shrubbery or walls.

He could hear the murmuring of her voice though he could not detect the actual words as she spoke to her fiancé. D'Arcy once again wondered at that distressing turn of events and straightened his shoulders, shook his head to throw off all of his hopes for his future with her. Arresting her fiancé for piracy would not sit well with her, he was assured; she was not the type to sit and take such a change well. He was not sure if she would call off the engagement or stick forcefully by her fiancé but D'Arcy hoped to be able to turn the pirate over to The Cabildo and making a stop in Havana to see if Governor Esteban Miró had truly only stopped over there for a visit or if he was, as rumor hinted, being held against his will. Was he being ransomed and acting Governor de Granada not responding to those ransom demands?

It was probably the last day he would see Lisette Bennet and the thought of that loss did show on his face as he stepped further into the shadows, behind a thick shrub which afforded him no view of the couple. He could tell it was simply the two of them and considered it an appropriate setting to snare his snake but then, to his surprise, Lisette sang.

As always, it stilled him to hear her sweet, melodic voice waft over the top of that bush and down to him. He did not care that she was apparently singing to Etienne de Granada; it was also her last song to him. It always had the same effect on him, as if this eager, gleeful bird came to perch on his heart, that after-glow from her song was like its wings beating inside of him, anxious and lively and yet content. There was silence between the pair on the other side of the bush and then that bird in his chest flew off, startled when he heard the sounds of an embrace and a kiss and then more whispered words, catching only something on Etienne's breath about "wishes." A band tightened around his chest and D'Arcy thought he could not breathe; his thoughts melted into nothing, became vapor as he stood there, a statue.

Lisette slipped past, not noticing him with her head bowed slightly, her hands on her skirts lifting them to assist in her hurried pace from the garden to the ballroom. D'Arcy took in a deep breath and came out of his stupor. He wondered at their parting, perhaps she was cold. Etienne remained outside which afforded him the opportunity he need.

"Señor de Granada," he called as he walked around that dense bush, "I am here at the behest of The Cabildo to arrest you for piracy."

"Piracy?" The young man turned to look at the older and taller one. "What is this talk of piracy? And you are nothing but a gentleman merchant sailor, what right have you to do anything in New Orleans? My father is governor here!"

"I have letters from the French government authorizing me to tackle issues of piracy in the Gulf; I have also spoken with your own council, The Cabildo, which has given me a warrant to arrest you, Sir."

Etienne de Granada seemed amused, his eyebrows raised and that smile that had so often irritated D'Arcy when watching the man with his Lisette spread across his face, D'Arcy's jealousy of the man made him draw in a quick breath in response to that smile.

"Ah! You are more than you seem, captain! A diplomat or a spy? Perhaps I need The Cabildo to consider _your_ actions?" Etienne's confidence flowed out of him.

"Think of me what you will, Señor," replied D'Arcy. "I would be happy to step before The Cabildo together. Shall we?" Captain D'Arcy waved a hand. Not back towards the house but down the garden path, a trail that would wind around the house and back out to the wharf.

"Are we truly to play the gentlemen at this?" Asked Etienne. "No rough handling, no ropes around my wrists?" He held his hand playfully in front of him.

"Let us go speak with your council," said D'Arcy and they set off and turned to walk back around the house and towards the dock and his men.

He thought then of his second task, rescuing Lisette. But did a woman self-destined to another man need rescuing? Did he truly wish to know if she would break her engagement because of Etienne's arrest or stand by him? His pride was such that he did not believe he could recover from such a blow. Twice. He had twice proclaimed himself in front of crowds for her. He had asked her to marry him and it had all been for naught. She did not love him or she did not love him enough.

She had been proved to be not an actress as he had once suspected. Nor was she poor, she was an heiress according to all of those reports, rumors really, that swirled around New Orleans. D'Arcy was sure they had been elaborated on at great length. Sifting through them he was at least sure her family came from Kent, a wealthy family to be offering 2,000 pounds for her safe return. He did wonder why she had left home. To him she had been a lady seeking adventure but to Henry she had been a ward fleeing a forced marriage. He wondered then if the story his cousin had been told had more truth to it?

His mind shifted to _that_ evening though he did not wish it to. She had mentioned a grandmother, brought her up as another excuse for her refusal to marry him because he had not spoken of love. Her grand-mère—there she had used the French term, a French grandmother, another clue—had said 'to only marry for the deepest and most profound love.' The more he considered it, the more he believed she was fleeing a forced marriage. Lisette had been seeking adventure, as she told him, and looking for love but perhaps she had found love? That was a painful, a terrible painful idea as he looked at the exquisitely dressed young man next to him still looking neat and trim despite the length of the evening. Lisette had found love. She had accepted _this_ man's marriage proposal. She would stand by her fiancé—he knew enough of her character to anticipate that.

He would turn Etienne de Granada, who was also Bras Pique, over to The Cabildo and let them deal with their infamous pirate. Gauthier D'Arcy decided he had enough of New Orleans and would leave as soon as he could fulfill his responsibilities. He knew Henry was leaving on this morning's tide and envied his cousin his freedom. But he had his commitment to see through his diplomatic duties. He would stop in Havana and then sail home to Le Havre.

As they came to the wharf and his waiting men, D'Arcy wondered if Marcel had reached him in height. Marcel had been two inches shorter the last time he had seen his brother but the braggart had assured him with many flowery and yet taunting words that he would not only catch but exceed his older brother in height the next time they met. That thought brought a small smile to his face as they stopped before his men at the waiting boat.

* * *

Lisette walked through the ballroom where ears perked up at her soft footsteps and eyes followed her and had she slowed her pace at all her group of admirers would have swarmed around her like the insects did when one was outside and the temperature clement.

Apparently many of the people were house guests, here at their leisure to linger and continue with whatever amusement might interest them but Lisette searched for her means away, that boat down to New Orleans proper. She looked for that older, slower version of her now ex-fiancé. She spared a small though then and wondered if she was not, in some fashion, still engaged to Cousin Collins? As her guardian, her father might enter into such an engagement but could she put an end to that legally once she reached her majority? She did not know. Surely it ended if she married, but did it end when she came of age and had a say, more of a say, in her own life?

The elder de Granada was on his feet, leaning on his stick and speaking to some men, older men with serious faces. They looked as if they spoke of business or politics and not of happier topics.

"Señor?" She smiled as pleasantly as she could given the hour and the circumstances, "might I have a word with you?"

"My dear!" He broke into a wide smile, a mirror of the one his son used, "yes, of course, _mi hija_. Gentlemen," he nodded and waved them away with his hands and then held an arm out for her. "How do you fare, _mi hija_?" He said as they walked away from the tables, the clanking of cutlery, clinking of glasses and the cadence of voices.

"I am tired, Señor, and I wish to return to New Orleans as quickly as possible," she said.

"New Orleans!" She had never heard him use anything other than a courtier's voice but his surprise bounced off of the walls. "But you are to stay here with me, my dear, until the wedding." His voice settled down to a low tom cat purr then.

They continued to walk and reached the end of the supper hall. She did not wish to cause him too much embarrassment when she spoke of her broken engagement so she allowed herself to be led into the hallway where for the first time that evening she encountered no others.

"Señor, your son and I have broken off the engagement. We have agreed we do not suit," she explained. Shock stilled their walk as the older man stopped his movements, leaned heavily on that fancy walking stick then he began to move again carrying her along with him.

"Do you have a strong sense of family, _mi hija_? I am not sure how much you understand. You said you ran from your family. You are perhaps fickle, like my son. It is so bad when your family is a disappointment," they turned a corner and moved down a hallway. "Etienne, he will never be good enough. He could not hold onto you for one evening. He never brings in as much loot as I think he could. Really. Does he _have_ to leave some behind just to be courteous?" He stopped by a door.

Lisette had attempted to slow her feet and disentangle herself from Rémy de Granada's arm but to no avail. 'I should have fled the entrance door into the night,' she considered.

"Señor, you need to let me go. I have no money, no dowry. I explained this to your son." She pleaded a little more than she wished. Lisette was tired and worn; she wished to be done with the ball. The cost for wearing the pretty blue silk dress had been a high price indeed.

"I think I shall see how you feel after a few days with us," he leaned his stick against the wall and opened the door and was just gentleman-like enough to point inside as though to escort her though that other arm still had a firm hold of her. "If you do not see fit to change your tune, perhaps I shall send you up river to the convent to join the sisters," he smiled broadly again.

"I am not of the Catholic faith," she argued.

"They are happy to take converts, _mi hija_ ," and he pointed again at the opening. Lisette nodded and walked through. He shut it and she heard the lock click behind her.

The room was spacious with papered walls, a plastered ceiling with a beautiful medallion in the center, a large bed with hangings for the cold weather and netting to keep out insects and precious rugs on the floor. It was far more elegant than anything she even had at Longbourn. Yet again she had no luggage but there was nightwear waiting for her on the bed, beautiful pieces, a fine, paper thin nightdress and a silk dressing gown of blue. Lisette ignored them and went to the windows, looking methodically out of each in turn.

There were four windows, two along each of two walls and outside of one was a tree, a gnarled open tree, monstrous in size. It had to have been there years before the house was built. Lisette thought it must be a local version of an oak, and she also thought she could reach its branches from the window and escape. She hated to attempt to climb out the window and down the tree in that beautiful silk dress as she was sure she would tear it but the alternatives were not acceptable, so she threw open the casement windows and eyed the tree limbs available.

One sturdy looking limb came close enough to the window and she gathered up her skirts and climbed up onto the window frame and then with a deep breath leaped out onto the limb, catching at higher branches as her feet found their mark. She steadied herself and her breathing and then found her next lower branch and then the next and slowly made her way down the enormous tree. The tree was of the sort to not provide her with branches for hand holds but had wide limbs for her to scoot or walk down—she hated to think what the backside of her skirts looked like but she had not heard the fabric tearing as she made her way down to the ground.

She thought she might be on the north side of the plantation house and knew the river lay to the west so Lisette carefully made her way in that direction. It was cold and for that she was thankful as the flying insects did not bother her so she could hide from the line of torches that still burned in that path up from the river. She could see where a multitude of people, mostly men, still gathered as they either made their way towards their boats or lingered for last minute drinks outside and more unruly entertainment than had been provided inside the house.

The plantation dock, a wharf almost, was large and a multitude of boats still lay tethered as people waited to be carried back down stream. Lisette waited for the crowds to thin and considered how best to make her own way back to the New Orleans dock and to The Elinor. She was far too recognizable now that she was—or had been—the affianced lady to Etienne de Granada and would need to bide her time waiting for one of the last boats and have to bribe or charm her way downstream.

A voice called out in English and her ears pricked up at the sounds of her native tongue and she moved forward, cautiously, to see who would be speaking and saw Nick Owens talking to another blond-haired gentlemen. The men were passing a bottle of some drink back and forth and speaking about women.

Lisette wondered if Nick Owens was a likely ally and watched him with his animated face speak about the ball and his disappointment at securing only one dance with Miss Bacon. His companion laughed heartily and called him a love sick pup and gave him the bottle which Nick finished. His friend protested good-naturedly at the action and went in the direction of the crowds seeking another. Lisette inched closer.

"Mr. Owens," she hiss-whispered.

"Miss Philips!" He cried his voice carrying and she waved her arms to quiet him.

"I beg of you to help me get back to the city, if you please," she asked. "I need to make it to The Elinor before she sails."

He had remained seated, perhaps he had been tipsy, but at the mention of The Elinor he stood.

"Yes, of course—come!" He would have led her into the horde of men but she pulled back.

"We must be discreet, Sir, I fear…," she was not quite sure how to explain her situation, "I fear there are men pursuing me," she said. "Can we find a private boat?" She shivered both with the cold and a little apprehension that the elder de Granada might check on her and discover her missing.

"Most are occupied, ear-marked to take their owners back whenever they be done dancing," he remarked. He did not seem to notice or care that they conversed in English.

"I need to make that sailing," she pressed and shivered again. She was not sure of this ally, this colleague of Etienne's but he was also an admirer of Miss Bacon's and she hoped to use that to her advantage though she knew Mary did not care for him—she knew next to nothing about the Irishman.

He nodded, grunting and left her. Lisette wrapped her arms around her shoulders as best she could, sitting on the barrel Nick had occupied and waiting a fair amount of time for his return. She ducked back into the shadows once when his companion staggered back with a bottle and a confused face to find Nick missing and left with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Miss," called her new companion, "miss?" On his arm was a heavy caped great-coat of some dark color. "I brought you a coat," he said and handed it to her. She had to right it to pull the garment on; it smelled of dried sweat and stale beer but was heavy and she warmed beneath it.

"I have a boat—a rowboat off of one of the larger ships—the currents shall help us."

He led her on a circuitous route around the merry-makers to the farthest end of the plantation's wharf, the downstream end. It was simply a rowboat and she was extremely happy for the thick and layered great coat as they rowed away downstream.


	31. Chapter 31

_To melancholy thoughts a prey  
With love and grief opress'd:  
To peace a stranger all the day,  
And all the night to rest:  
For thee, disdainful fair, I pine,  
And wake the tender sigh,  
By that obdurate heart of thine,  
My balmy blessings fly_

—Mrs. Pilkington

* * *

Chapter 31

It occurred to Lisette that Nick Owens was another of those men not influenced by her song though he was gallant enough to help her escape and had thought to bring her that great-coat.

"I wish to thank you again, Mr. Owens, for helping me to catch The Elinor before it sails." She made no mention of her escape down that large oak tree or of being locked in by the governor and of his threats.

"You are most welcome, Miss, I should like…I should like to speak to Miss Bacon one last time," he said.

"You admire my friend," said Lisette.

He sighed, "very much."

"What is it about Miss Bacon that has you so entranced?" She asked watching him row.

"Her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes," he sighed again.

"Her eyes!" It was not quite what she had anticipated.

He continued. "If ever I was to marry I have always wished for her, my wife, to have blue eyes like my Mama." He paused and adjusted his hands on the oars, uncramping his fingers. "There are few blue-eyed women in New Orleans, Miss Bennet. A young man must act quickly, you see." He began rowing again.

"I see," she repeated as she thought this through. She felt then that she was giving this young man false hope if he expected her to speak to her friend on his behalf for his actions in getting her downstream from the de Granada Plantation to The Elinor. He wished a bride with blue eyes and had no other qualification for a wife. That did not recommend him in Lisette's eyes as a suitable partner for her friend. They continued their journey then to New Orleans largely in silence.

It was still the dark of the night when they arrived at the New Orleans wharf. Nick Owens dutifully escorted Lisette down the wharf to where The Elinor lay at anchor. She tried to not look at Le Cerf Blanc as they walked past it but her eyes found it in the darkness, those familiar contours, and she wondered if Captain D'Arcy was asleep there or if he was still dancing attendance on Sol Adao. The docks were quiet in the middle of the night and the pair encountered few.

At The Elinor's gangplank she stood for a long moment in the darkness looking up its thin length, a line darker against the sides of the ship, a path that would be taking her onwards. Lisette had declared she was done with adventuring—done and wishing to go home to her country, though not to her family. But taking that final step and leaving what she had encountered, who she had come to love made leaving a difficult prospect to actually face now that she was here and contemplating an irretrievable move.

"Shall I hail?" asked Nick Owens.

"Yes," she replied. He did so. They waited, listening and watching. Figures moved, shapes in the dark but voices did not float down to them in greeting. Nick hailed again after many more heartbeats.

"Who goes there," said a voice.

Lisette thought it belonged to Lieutenant Moore but could not be sure.

"Lottie Philips," she answered. Multiple voices spoke together on the deck.

"Your purpose?" He called.

"I seek passage home," she answered. Again murmuring voices showered down to the pair on the dock. No further word was given and they waited in the cold for a much longer space of time. The great coat kept her warm and she wondered again who was missing it.

"Miss Philips?" This voice was entirely familiar.

"Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake," she answered him. She heard footsteps coming towards her down the gangplank. He stood immaculately dressed before her the picture of the perfect English gentleman captain with that ever unreadable face.

"I hope I did not disturb your slumber overly much, captain, would you accept me as a passenger on The Elinor?" She asked softly dipping him a little curtsey. He was quiet for a moment as he looked from her to Nick Owens and then to some internal thought.

"Come speak with me in my cabin," he said. He waved her in front of him. Lisette turned to thank Nick Owens again for his help and removed the coat.

"Please attempt to find its owner," she said and shook hands with him. He assured her of his happiness in helping her and looked at the captain who was watching them.

"Might I speak with Miss Bacon?" Nick asked looking pointedly to the captain. Fitzwilliam-Blake's brow contracted.

"I fear she is sleeping, Mr. Owens," answered the captain. "One does not disturb a lady in the middle of the night."

"I will wait for dawn then," he said.

"As you wish," replied Fitzwilliam-Blake and he turned back to his passenger.

Lisette was escorted into the captain's quarters. For once there was no cup of tea waiting for her though he did wait for her to take her usual place at the table.

"You wish to book passage?" He prompted when they were both seated.

"I am done with New Orleans," she laid her hands flat on the table and splayed her fingers open slightly. She looked more at her hands than at him.

"You are to no longer work at the puppet show? What about your friends?" He asked.

"I have said my goodbyes to them," she said tight-lipped. Was he to inquire into her business before agreeing to her passage? He nodded and then frowned. His arm made a slight movement and she wondered if his fingers twitched out of sight under the table.

"What of your…young gentleman, the Spaniard?" There was a slight smile, a brotherly concern there on his face that she had not left any loose ends behind her.

He had missed that entire scene at the governor's ball, her acceptance of Etienne's hand and that very public kiss though she suspected he had heard the whispered talk earlier about the proposal. To even mention it would be too much, touching too closely to Captain D'Arcy. "We have also said our goodbyes." She answered firmly; she sought to reassure Fitzwilliam-Blake that the engagement had been broken, that she had not accepted Etienne de Granada.

There must have been more to be read on her face. Lisette felt she was losing her ability to conceal her emotions. She had been called to use all of her abilities so much that evening she could no longer keep it up in her exhaustion. Perhaps she no longer wanted to ever play that game. She wished then for a life that never included having to play such games, for a simple life, with sweet, straight-forward companions.

"Miss Philips," he began.

"Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake…," she interrupted, "Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake, I must tell you I am not Lottie Philips, I am Lisette Bennet," her hand came to soothe her forehead, pry those loose strands of hair back from her face and to also avoid looking at him.

He gazed at her with that ever stoic face, "the heiress that was being sought."

"Yes, that is another reason for me to leave New Orleans for I fear that unless I leave voluntarily I may be leaving against my will." She thought she saw a slight nod of the head then.

"I am sure Miss Bacon would be glad of your company," he conceded, and swallowed as he processed her information, her true identity, the consequences of her staying in New Orleans.

"I will be glad to have hers," she said simply and honestly.

She would have risen then, but he put his hand up on the table to stave off her leaving, caught her eyes with a look she could not avoid, "and D'Arcy? You have taken leave of your friends, but have you spoken to Captain D'Arcy?" Again her face was a book to be read. "Is it so bad, so serious, that you cannot part from him on good terms?" He cried.

Once again tears came. "Do you think I should not return home?" She cried. Lisette was weary, in need of sleep and had not anticipated facing such a conversation.

"Are you to wholly give him up?" He asked. It had to be one of the boldest questions The Elinor's captain had ever asked.

"He neglected me; he has no desire for my acquaintance, his actions towards me have proven that," she cried.

"Suppose he has need for concealment?" His brow rose as he asked his question. She looked at him without understanding his meaning.

"Why would he have need for secrecy?" She asked.

"You must suppose he would have a good reason for his actions, Miss…Bennet." Her name came off of his tongue awkwardly. He had a distant look then on his face as though another matter or another conversation had risen up in his thoughts.

"Perhaps I am not doing him justice. I am torn with admitted jealously," she looked down at her hands on the table. "He has charms to captivate any woman."

"True, but he is not a profligate man, he has integrity and honor; you know that first-hand; you have seen the way he commands his crew," he argued. "His words and actions are both principled."

Lisette colored; she had seen the way the boat ran smoothly those weeks she had been on board, he had behaved with liberality and forbearance against most men.

"He has given me up," she said and raised her eyes, despite the tears, to look at Fitzwilliam-Blake. "I have seen the evidence of it, his indifference to me with my eyes."

"He is a good man," said Fitzwilliam-Blake. "Look to his words and deeds."

She left it at that. He escorted her out of the quarters to the top of the stairs and he bid her welcome and back aboard the Elinor.

Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake then returned to his quarters and sat down to pen a note to his cousin and ensured it was delivered by one of his officers to Le Cerf Blanc before The Elinor left New Orleans.

* * *

Like that first time coming on board Lisette gave over and into to her body's need, the physical toll it had endured, having been overwhelmed, having been drained by her emotions and once again she slept for two days.

She struggled with her feelings when she woke. Before she had been able to indulge in her emotions only at night, in the dark, or if the day to hide them from Mary, but she could not hide them now from observant eyes, those recollections of moments she had shared with Captain D'Arcy, both the easy and the difficult times. She could not account, those first few weeks for her manners towards others on board and so stuck to her rooms, with Mary bringing her meals on trays as though, now that she occupied Anna de Bourgh's bed, _she_ was the invalid.

For two weeks she engaged in or indulged in her own distress, this great sorrow. She grieved. Lisette had found love and then lost it and for weeks she lay in her bed and gave over to her unhappiness. This was not a time to consider and to think, to ponder another lesson and chalk it up to 'things learned' as she had all those other times during her travels. This was a time to perceive, to endure, to be sensible of what she once had and had now lost and to appreciate how joyous, how blessed, and how heartwarming it had been to be loved.

They sailed around the tip of Florida and up the coast of America but she hardly noted the journey.

Her heart was heavy; she was unable to lighten it for days with repeated recollections of that evening at the ball and all that had occurred between her and Captain D'Arcy and, more to the point, what had not occurred. It was like nourishing a grief, giving it life and vigor. She realized she was courting misery and that it was a different way of being for her, was so unlike her past spirits though she did not care, and she gave over to the misery of a lost love.

It was, however, not in her nature to maintain such a violence of affliction; it could not be supported forever and she sunk into melancholy. There were other things in life to support her, Mary's love and friendship; the firm support of Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake and the prospect of settling into a calm and steady sort of life on her return to the shores of England. She rallied herself and her spirits and eventually rose from her misery and her bed.

* * *

Lisette considered it surprising that Mary Bacon welcomed her back into her fold, her arms and her friendship so readily when Lisette knew she had been a fair weather friend. But Mary was ever loving and trusting. Lisette thought it must be due to Mary's having been raised in such a warm and loving home that nothing hindered her spirits for long. Once she came to know someone she always thought well of that friend. Again it was why she made such a good companion. She would one day make a loving wife and Lisette hoped for happy tidings for her friend. Nick Owens had not been an appropriate suitor but perhaps there would be a young gentleman who would love Mary Bacon as she so wholly deserved to be loved.

Nick Owens had waited for dawn and had made Mary an offer of marriage.

"It was awkward as we stood on the quayside with men bustling about readying the ship and I simply had to say no and run up the gangplank and we sailed," Mary had explained with blushes bringing a sweet color to her cheeks.

"You are happy to have turned him down?" Inquired Lisette.

"I did not love him but it was flattering, Lisette, to have a young man offer for me. Just once to think I captured his attention enough that he wanted me at his side." Mary smiled and the color grew a deeper shade on those cheeks. "I can grow old with this memory now."

"Perhaps someday you _shall_ fall in love Mary, that is my fondest wish," smiled Lisette.

That thought became a rallying point. She could not always be consumed by her own thoughts, and would focus on Mary. After all, she was returning to England under the charity of the Bacon family now. She would assume the role of companion to Mary. Her friend had assured her that her trunk from the Leoni family had been delivered, so for once Lisette had a small set of possessions and between them, Mary and Lisette might make a little life together.

* * *

It had been an ordeal to turn Etienne de Granada over to The Cabildo. The young man remained poised, even amused, during the entire trip down river to New Orleans, trading quips with his officers in a way that irritated D'Arcy. He supposed that though he had obtained the warrant from The Cabildo, the young man's family had far too much influence to allow him to hang for any of his crimes. He might be banished from New Orleans or Louisiana territory, but banished only to Madrid thought D'Arcy as he listened to Etienne laughing with one of the aspirants.

The small number of men that formed The Cabildo was difficult to discover in those early hours of the morning. Some had, perhaps, attended the governor's ball and were in bed recovering from hours of merry-making. Officially, D'Arcy needed one of them to oversee his remanding Señor de Granada into custody and it was not until well into the morning that he was able to rouse one official gentleman and complete his task. He and his men then returned to Le Cerf Blanc to begin preparations to leave New Orleans.

He noted that his cousin had slipped away on the tide as D'Arcy stood on deck and looked out at the river waiting for his breakfast to be prepared before he sat in his quarters to eat. More and more he found that she haunted his thoughts if he sat too long alone in his own quarters. Her lock of stolen hair still sat in his map drawer and D'Arcy would sometimes open the drawer to gaze down on it and recall how breathless he had been, how careful and exacting he had tried to be when he had trimmed her hair. That had been the tipping point, that moment when she had turned to smile at him her fingers running through to the shortened ends and his heart beating like the wind pounding on a sail ripped loose from its moorings. He loved her; he had wanted to marry her with intensity, a passion he had never felt before. One which had never wavered though she had been lost to him and found again and then, inexplicably lost. Yet he had not understood how their reunion in New Orleans had been one of such contradictions and not of reconciliation. Had his pride gotten in the way?

His task here was complete, he would sail to Havana and then to home and he would face his lonely future without his lovely Lisette. He had a great deal of sympathy for Henry now, having loved and lost his wife, Elinor. D'Arcy supposed Henry could hold onto the memory of the years that they had together and he would attempt to remember the sweet, joyful weeks he had with Lisette.

A cough was at his elbow and D'Arcy turned to see Le Fevre standing solemnly an arm's length away. The young man nodded and D'Arcy made his way up the starboard stairs to his quarters for his meal and to finalize the details of their leaving.

He was surprised to find a note on his table next to his breakfast and with enticingly familiar handwriting. He opened it immediately.

 _Gauthier-  
She weeps for love of you.  
Lisette Bennet sails this morning on The Elinor.  
She believes you have neglected her, are indifferent to her—have given her up—and I think I can more believe the sun will not rise tomorrow than that you have stopped loving her.  
We hope to be in Portsmouth by Christmas or the New Year at the latest,  
Henry_

He read and then reread the note and wondered that he had misunderstood her at the ball, misconstrued her actions, been blinded by his own jealousy to not be able to see that she still cared for him, his loveliest Lisette.

He sprang from his table and was on the quarterdeck looking down at the main deck at the slight amount of activity taking place. He had been at this post when he had seen her being taken from him before; was he ever to lose her? Lieutenant Jenkins appeared from the stairs beneath the forecastle far across the deck and he hailed him and then plans were made to leave as quickly as he could urge his crew. Before he had not been in a hurry to leave because Lisette had been in New Orleans but now that she had escaped, D'Arcy was to follow.

* * *

On the sixth morning they were in Havana. He would not be delayed in his purpose of following Lisette and yet he had his final obligation to finish his diplomatic mission for his father, to find Governor Miró, or to see if he had been, indeed, kidnapped and secure his release. D'Arcy's initial inquiries about Governor Miró were not successful.

After a day of fruitless searching and frustration at this delay and his intense desire to again be sailing, he sought out an old contact, a Mr. Younge whom his father had known in England and who was known to be a securer of information. Mr. Younge had often been at Westminster but had moved to the New World as a sort of diplomat, moving around various cities under English, French or Spanish control, ostensibly as a citizen, but in reality as an unofficial British diplomat. With Havana being the official Spanish seat in the New World, D'Arcy was lucky in locating this old contact.

Captain D'Arcy paid to secure the information he needed and found that the governor, the true governor, was indeed being held captive in a small town east of Havana. Negotiations with the ruling Havanese government made him almost weep for the delay but his passion to complete the job inspired enough officials that the negotiations occurred far quicker than they would have otherwise been.

It was still a week before he and his officers and crew left the New World for England and in The Elinor's wake.


	32. Chapter 32

_I have been in love, and in debt, and in drink—  
This many and many year;  
And those three are plagues enough, one would think,  
For one poor mortal to bear.  
'Twas drink made me fall into love,  
And love made me run into debt;  
And though I have struggled, and struggled and strove,  
I cannot get out of them yet. _

_There's nothing but money can cure me,  
And rid me of all my pain;  
'Twill pay all my debts.  
And remove all my lets;  
And my mistress that cannot endure me,  
Will love me, and love me again:  
Then I'll fall to loving and drinking again._

— _Brome_

* * *

Chapter 32

Lisette's background—that she was Lisette Bennet, heiress, and not Lottie Philips—was common knowledge on The Elinor. The tales about her from New Orleans were bantered about among the crew and passengers as much as she wished they would not be discussed. She had no fear that they had been spread by Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake or by Lieutenant Jenkins, but she was sure that some one or other of the officers had heard the news about her background or that some of the crew had and once one of them shared it became ship-board knowledge. And the news then got back to the passengers.

Mr. Thompson and Mr. Adams had disembarked in Jamaica but the two Butlers were on a round-trip voyage and suddenly those two men—who had been annoying enough before—now could not get enough of Lisette's attention when they realized that she was ostensibly a rich lady returning home to England. They had been bothersome on the trip when they had doubted her story and background. Their behavior now was rude and abominable.

As soon as she decided to leave her room—a desire for a change of place to help break her melancholy—and set foot in the officers' mess she was badgered by the Butlers. She had until then entirely forgotten about the two Butler men. They were as annoying as those flying insects in New Orleans that came to life as soon as the temperature rose above a certain level and one wished to bat them away from one's face and yet one could not bat men away. But word that she was Lisette Bennet and not Lottie Philips was the first thing addressed to her by the two scientists.

"So little miss, you have deceived us all this time," called the elder Mr. Butler.

She looked at him with narrowed eyes, "It was not my intention to deceive anyone, I had other reasons for changing my name," she said with firmness and then turned her attention back to Mary.

He had to sit and think about that as he often had to do; to think about a person's reply when they did not say what he was expecting.

"Wait, so why did you change your name then?" He cried.

"I do not believe I need to explain myself to you, Mr. Butler," Lisette answered.

"But you are the Lady Lisette Bennet that we have heard about," he argued as if she must make an accounting to all of them for not representing herself correctly during their first voyage across the Atlantic.

"I am Lisette Bennet," she replied softly; she would never again assume a different name. 'Unless, of course, I marry,' she thought.

"The heiress?" He prompted.

"Yes," she answered. She looked at the officers then and Lieutenant Jenkins took the hint and came to sit at the ladies' table to talk to them about safer topics, such as the weather.

* * *

Mr. Butler hovered. He seemed to think that Lisette could not walk the decks without an escort even though she had been able to manage such an activity when she had been on board before. But now that she had been proved to be a genteel lady—and an heiress—she was seen as needing an escort as though she were a plant that needed nurturing and constant tending. Lisette could not walk five feet on deck without the security and the arm of a gentleman. The Butler men believed she also needed a male chaperone and that Mary Bacon would not do; Mary's arm was rejected out of hand. Rather than allowing herself to feel frustrated by this injunction she sought out the attentions of the officers rather than suffer the restrictions of the Butlers.

There was one particularly infuriating evening where Mr. Butler pestered her almost without ceasing like he had in those beginning days on the Elinor with a multitude of questions. He had heard she came from Kent, not Sussex, and he knew the name of her father and he seemed determined to find out the nature of her dowry so he plagued her about the status of it between the bites of his food with many subtle and then more open questions about her family's wealth.

"If you are an heiress how much money do you have?" He had finally asked with his usual bluntness.

And in a fit she could only ascribe as madness she had called out to him, "40,000 pounds, my dowry is 40,000 pounds!" Lisette had then stood up and left the table and the room in silence as the Butlers and the officers and even Mary Bacon had all watched her walk away. It was an incredible sum of money to contemplate. She knew she was not necessarily entitled to the remainder of the money her father had set aside for his daughters' dowries but her frustration at the Butler's tormenting her had needled her to the point of her own rudeness.

* * *

The Mr. Butlers did contemplate that amount of money. The interest alone on that amount was far more than the two men's combined salaries and greed set in, crept into the hearts of both men. They thought then of why a _woman_ should have so much money simply by the nature of her birth when they worked hard to earn their paltry salaries. They spoke between themselves and devised a plan that Mr. Arthur Butler should marry the heiress and could assume control over that fortune.

Lisette would not have spoken out of turn, would not have been so angry if she had not been so unseasonably depressed. The Butlers had badgered her for as many days and weeks on board as she had been a passenger. She was still lovesick, homesick and had been caught entirely off-guard. Had she been calmer and had she not spoken out in anger but remained sedate and put off saying anything it would have staved off their intentions which grew into having Mr. Arthur Butler compromise Lisette so that they would need to marry and to force Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake to marry the pair at sea so as to get their hands on that money.

* * *

In moments of stillness, when there was only the creaking of timbers and the rocking of the boat to keep her company, Lisette could hear his clear deep voice in her head. He had, in a way, said he loved her, that he would ransom her and had said so before another audience of people. She had once quibbled with his not having said 'I love you,' when he asked her to marry him yet she saw now "I will pay her ransom," was Captain D'Arcy's own way of saying 'I love you,' before the corsairs and his crew. "Love will find out the way," was again and more obviously a way of saying before her, Etienne, and the entire governor's ballroom full of guests that he loved her. He loved her. Did he know she returned his love? She had been struck dumb, her knees had weakened, and she had clasped that railing when he sang to her; she had been unable to respond and been blinded, too, by her jealousy.

She wished now that she had followed Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake's advice and taken leave of Captain D'Arcy before leaving New Orleans. Once again they were worlds apart and without means of contacting one another.

Her tune came to her and she was haunted by that final line. She could hum though all the lines of her melody but yet it stopped short at the end. It was a song of love, about that sweet mystery of life, that greatest secret. Grand-mère had sent her out to seek love, her heart had heard the call and answered it and she thought she must trust that it ruled there, in her heart. If love was to be in her life—which was Captain D'Arcy alone—she would have to trust to fate.

* * *

Mary now had free time. She had brought books of her own when she had packed to come with Mrs. de Bourgh to the West Indies, but she had read and reread them through already on the trip across the Atlantic. With Lisette's help she had been introduced to the books that Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake had on board. He had discovered Mary's interest and been pleased with this discovery. He had only ever seen her as a companion to Mrs. de Bourgh and Mary's interests in literature gave him a different insight into her. Now he allowed her to be a young lady, a young lady of twenty-three, plain and bespectacled, yes, but intelligent, well-read and actually well-spoken when he found the time to talk to her.

He had been happy to lend her more books and Mary had been delighted in having the chance to read through them and even to have a chance to sit and converse with him about his books over a cup of tea. It was not an admiration that seemed to be leading them towards love; it was a comfortable, companionable friendship. He was a lonely gentleman of thirty-seven, set in his ways but not so set that he could not enjoy conversation and a new perspective on his well-thumbed books.

One day Mary and Lisette were talking at the noon meal and Mary mentioned she had been invited to tea because she had finished another book and she and the captain were to discuss it. Lisette and Mary talked about it—and the upcoming tea—and as Lisette had not read it, she listened attentively as Mary expounded on it in with enthusiasm. Lisette was happy to let her friend be the center of interest and listened to her excitement about the book, the tea and the upcoming conversation with Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake.

As they overheard this discussion, Mr. Butler decided that very day would be the best to put into action their plan. Miss Bennet kept to her rooms most days and rarely appeared on deck any more. Most often she had an officer on her arm if she did venture on deck so that they had no way of even speaking to her. With Miss Bacon gone from the room Arthur would have the perfect opportunity to make his declaration and to make his move.

* * *

Mary had become her conscience, her voice of reason and when she was around Lisette rallied herself to be a friend, to make conversation, but if Mary was gone then Lisette's heart showed the flaws, the gaping wounds and the pain would come and Lisette would sit or lie down overwhelmed with memories of a love found and then lost. Could Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake be correct and D'Arcy's actions have some proper explanation? Lisette wondered about his actions that evening towards her and towards Senhorita Adao.

A sound brought her to, she was lying on her bed, what had been Anna de Bourgh's bed, on top of the covers and heard footsteps outside in that narrow corridor. One of the Butlers, she surmised but then the feet stopped at her door. She thought of that first day on Le Cerf Blanc and Le Fevre shuffling his feet outside her door in his anxiety when she had refused Captain D'Arcy's request to come to supper.

Lisette sat up a little when the latch clicked and the door opened and closed quickly. Mr. Arthur Butler stood just inside the door looking at her, anxious and breathless.

"Go now," she said to him, leaning back on her arms, watchful.

"My dearest," he took a step closer to stand at the end of her bed, "we can be together," he leaned forward to slowly run a hand along the bed to her skirts and touched a foot. He looked up from that stocking foot in his hand when he heard a click. Lisette had a small pistol cocked and pointed at him. She pulled her foot from his grasp as she sat farther up, moving farther away from him, back towards the head of the bed.

"Lisette, dearest," his hand moved towards her again.

"Keep your hands in front of you, Mr. Butler," she said. "Up higher please," when he began to let them rest at his sides.

"Miss Lisette!" He pleaded, "be careful you do not know if that might go off!"

"I have been well-trained in small firearms, Mr. Butler. My Uncle made sure of that." His breathing was even more rapid as he eyed her while she stood up with the pistol trained on him with a steady hand.

"Come, let us go see Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake," she said, "if you would be so kind as to open the door slowly."

"Now then, Miss Lisette, no need to see Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake. No harm," his voice changed its character and became higher and jagged.

"The door please." She called and he obliged. They walked slowly up the narrow stairs to the main deck where he turned to plead with her again.

"Please Miss Lisette," he begged then, "don't take me to the Captain!"

She said nothing. Men on deck eyed her with the pistol then as he turned and made his way aft to Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake's quarters and knocked with Lisette in his wake.

Fitzwilliam-Blake called to enter and she nodded to the man in front of her and he, with shaking hands, opened the door. Fitzwilliam-Blake stood abruptly at the sight of the nervous Arthur Butler and Lisette, a pistol in her hand. Mary looked at the two of them with wide blue eyes.

"Miss Bennet!" The captain cried. "What is going on?"

"I believe Mr. Arthur had the idea to compromise me, Captain, or something even more evil. He came upon me in my room with some nonsense."

The captain looked to the young man, "Mr. Butler, what do you have to say about this?"

The young man mumbled as he stood there looking at the chair in front of him and then down at some point near Lisette's feet. "She's really…," he paused and then inhaled, it was a gasping breath. "It was Papa's idea," he was almost shouting, "he thought I should marry Miss Bennet, and then I could get her dowry. She has more money than is fair, the interest on her dowry is more than the two of us make in a year, it is not fair!" He leaned forward to clasp the back of that chair and glared over at Lisette.

"I can have you hanged for this, you realize," said the captain, his eyes had a deadened look, his face no longer stoic but pained; his voice was shaky. Lisette could see that Fitzwilliam-Blake was deeply disturbed, more than she had ever observed by the actions of the Butler men.

"Perhaps you should know Mr. Butler that my dowry is subject to the whim of my father," she clicked the hammer back on the pistol, put it on the table and turned to look him fully in the face, "and should he not approve of my husband I would receive nothing. My sister Lydie married someone he did not care for and she did not receive a penny."

The man blanched and swallowed as he looked over at the unsettled captain Fitzwilliam-Blake. The captain turned to his companion at the table.

"Miss Bacon, if you would be so kind as to fetch Lieutenant Jenkins for me," and Mary went out the door. It did not take long to find his second for there was great curiosity on the deck about Lisette and that pistol. When Lieutenant Jenkins arrived he stood silently just inside the door and looked at his captain.

"Mr. Jenkins, I am afraid we need to remand the Mr. Butlers into custody and will need to decide what to do with them for the rest of the voyage. If you would be so kind as to fetch some men and escort the elder Mr. Butler here."

He turned to face the two women. "Miss Bennet and Miss Bacon, it might be better if you retire to your rooms, I can no longer guarantee the behavior of Mr. Butler and Mr. Arthur and would not ask you to suffer their presence any longer. I would assure you that your safety is of the utmost importance to me. If you would be so kind as to remove to your room until I can assure they are under lock and key?"

"Lock and key! We are paid passengers aboard here," cried Mr. Arthur Butler. "What is this talk about lock and key?"

Fitzwilliam-Blake turned to Mr. Arthur Butler. "Again sir, under English law, your actions are such that I could see you hanged." The young man did not seem to have assimilated those words, heard the threatening undertone. He could only see his own freedom being stripped from him.

"You would take her word. She was the one holding the gun on me!" He pointed an arm out at Lisette, a dirt-stained fingernail on the hand.

"Ladies, if you would be so kind…," said Fitzwilliam-Blake in complete command.

Lisette and Mary left the captain to his task.

* * *

"Was it terrible?" Asked Mary when they were back in their rooms together.

"No," answered Lisette. "Of all the things I have experienced since I have left home this was actually small and uneventful, more annoying than anything else."

"Where did you have the pistol?" Asked her friend as she sat on her own bed and looked with a white face at her friend.

"Under my pillow," answered Lisette who sat down across from her.

"Will they really hang them?" Asked Mary.

"I cannot think that they will." Lisette, however, was not sure on this point.

"They have always been bad-mannered but I would never have thought them capable of considering such actions!" Said Mary.

"I fear money makes men, honest but stupid men, act in desperate ways," answered Lisette.

* * *

Mr. Butler, senior, did not take to being under lock and key and was vehement in his protests with fists on the door. Lisette recalled Madam Huppe and remembered her frenzied reaction to that same state of affairs when they were locked together on the corsair ship. They passed Halifax with no end to the protestations from the older man about his innocence in the entire affair and the guilt of Miss Bennet in accusing them.

For the sanity and concord of the entire crew after four days of protestations when they reached St. John's, Newfoundland, Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake unlocked the door to the store room where he was keeping the two men, along with dried vegetables.

"I am letting you out," he declared as he eyed his two passengers.

"About time," growled the older man.

"And off ship," continued the captain as he held the door open a little wider with his officers and men waiting.

"What?" Cried both men in confusion.

"You will gather your items, your luggage, your specimens, and disembark here," said Fitzwilliam-Blake coldly.

"Where are we?" Asked Mr. Arthur Butler.

"St. John's," answered Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"But when will you come back for us?" Asked the father.

"I will not be coming back for you. You can stay on board, under lock and key, and I will take you back to England to face charges of rape which is punishable by hanging. Or, you can disembark here. Your choice." He stared with disgust and loathing at the two men.

"That is not a choice!" Cried the elder Mr. Butler. "We've little money left, how are we to survive?"

"That was your choice the moment you decided to attack Miss Bennet." Fitzwilliam-Blake turned and left the unpleasantness—or was that a pleasure—of throwing the two men off of his ship to his officers and the burliest of his crew.

* * *

The rest of their journey to England was sweeter. Mary Bacon spent a great deal of time with Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake which allowed Lisette time to consider the entirety of her months away from home. She thought of all of her options for the future and considered too where she had made mistakes in the past.

Her first consideration was those options which involved her own family: contacting Mrs. Bennet, her grandfather or her sister Jeannette. All of these were too likely to result in her marriage to her Cousin Collins as she thought it likely that Mr. Bennet would somehow hear of that correspondence. She might be able to somehow contact someone in the Lucas family surreptitiously but she again had doubts that such a missive would not somehow become known at Longbourn and her father would be able to track her if she did. And what good would John Lucas or Charlotte be to her, what would they be able to do for her anyways besides give her word of her mother and grandmother? How long would those threats of ransom remain on her head? She could not know how long her father would decide to pursue her.

She would stick to her plans to stay with Mary; perhaps to find some employment as a governess though she had no notion of how to even begin such a pursuit. She had enjoyed her work at the marionette stand, but anything akin to working as an actress would not do now that she was back in England. Whatever she did, Mary deserved her devotion and loyalty.

She had made mistakes; her love of fine clothing had led to such trouble at the governor's ball. Lisette was also certain that despite all of those lessons she had noted down since that rough sea crossing into Calais that she still had trouble with charming men and she had best find places where such men were an uncommon occurrence. D'Arcy had charms to captivate, that was true, but she considered with as much detachment as she could allow—though it was painful to compare—his sudden attachment to Senhorita Adao and his feelings for that lady. His attachment had been sudden, that offering of an arm—the day of her unmasking—and yet was it a symptom of his love for Sol? Had it been a sudden exhibition of a sort of passion based on a first interview? Captain D'Arcy was not that sort of man, to her knowledge, to drop his friends, drop everything in pursuit of a woman. His was of a gentler, steadier character. That was what she valued about him uppermost.

Lisette did not really wish to review scenes from the ball but she considered the pair there, Senhorita Adao fliting and flirting around as she made her way through the ballroom and D'Arcy there tall and silent—standing guard—but not participating in any way. Perhaps Fitzwilliam-Blake was correct and D'Arcy had a motive for his unexpected attentions to Sol Adao, some need to conceal his actions at the ball that evening and that they were not those of a man suddenly in love with a beautiful face but he had some other motivation, as yet unknown to her.

Jealousy was still a difficult thing to manage in her heart but if she was to agree that Fitzwilliam-Blake was correct, and she was to look to Captain D'Arcy's words and deeds, by such a reckoning, all D'Arcy had done for her was tremendous and all he had done for Sol Adao was small: only escort her to a party. D'Arcy still valued her, still loved her.

* * *

Were they idle hopes, the potential joy he had imaged which he had found her again? Had he been too indifferent towards her as Henry had aspersed? He felt as though he could not navigate these waters of love and desire. She so affected him he could only be her lover or his calm captain self, there was no in-between. He had to acknowledge, however, that he was still motivated by a strong sense of duty and obligation.

D'Arcy wondered if he led too charmed of a life? Besides losing his mother at an early age, he had never wanted for anything and been raised to a life of wealth and privilege; his father's position meant there were distinguished visitors to the family home at all times. He had found that the small breaks, those summers with his English cousins had afforded him the only hiatus from that privileged, but demanding lifestyle of moving in court circles in England until Théophile D'Arcy had returned to France and there continued his diplomatic post. Those contacts of his father's had been what had provided him with his heart's desire—at the time—his ship.

His request for a ship had been granted; his father was generous with the terms and the debt to his father had almost been paid but had the payment of that—completing his diplomatic mission—been at such an expense as to lose the love of his life? He had never truly been faced with something like this. Was this to be a lesson, his portion of bad luck to bear after being charmed so much of his life?

He thought only of her happiness. He had been hesitant, unsure at times in New Orleans with that imbecile Etienne de Granada pursuing her, unsure if her interests had not changed despite all that Henry had said about her coming to that city to seek him out. He had warred with his own interests then, his love for her and yet his desire confusing him as to her ultimate happiness after such a fate as kidnapping and captivity, especially since he had been unable to prevent such circumstances. But his own affection and wishes had never wavered since his first declaration to her that evening in the forecastle, that disastrous evening in July. He thought he understood her rejection then; she had been running from her father and, it seemed, a forced marriage. Perhaps she felt ashamed of misrepresenting herself; he had loved her when he thought she was poor, he could love her as an heiress.

He was only as sensible as a man violently in love could be.

He would be forever grateful for Henry's note. For it taught him to hope, his desire for her happiness meant he no longer could rely on his own judgment and the entire scene at the ball was uncomfortable to recall.

He had a difficult time reconciling himself to his own conduct with Senhorita Adao. He had been so desirous of completing his task and returning home to tell his father that he had done as was asked but that the diplomatic life was not for him that he looked now at his conduct and manners, and realized they did not reflect well on him and his treatment of Lisette. He had been devoid of proper feelings when he had pursued his business with Sol and realized how injurious they had been to Lisette. To have pained her in any way brought pain on himself. He felt humbled.

He wondered if the past, their past circumstances would always intrude on them and if they were ever to find a present happiness? Could he ever look back at their past encounters with pleasure? He doubted it. He was by no means sure of securing Lisette for his own. While he was racing across the Atlantic, the ocean current pushing them along, he had no exact idea of how to find her though he knew that Henry expected to spend Christmas and New Year with his son.


	33. Chapter 33

_From the court to the cottage convey me away,  
For I'm weary of grandeur, and what they call gay:  
When pride without measure,  
And pomp without pleasure,  
Make life in a circle of hurry decay_

 _Far remote and retir'd from the noise of the town,  
I'll exchange my brocade for a plain russet gown;  
My friends shall be few,  
But well chosen and true,  
And sweet recreation our evening shall crown._

 _With a rural repast, (a rich banquet for me)  
On a mossy green turf, near some shady old tree,  
The river's clear brink,  
Shall afford me my drink,  
And temperance my friendly physician shall be._

 _Ever calm and serene, with contentment still blest,  
Not too giddy with joy, or with sorry deprest,  
I'll neither invoke,  
Or repine at Death's stroke,  
But retire from the world as I would to my rest._

—Carey

* * *

Chapter 33

The closer they were to England the more her song played in her head, and the more the last line worried her. No matter how much she focused on it she could not think of an ending to it. England was home, however, and there was to be happiness here. Lisette was content being with Mary and the idea of being a companion and friend in the Bacon household. In time she hoped to contact her sister Jeannette but not until she was assured Mr. Bennet had well and truly stopped looking for her. She would retrieve grand-mère's necklace from Monsieur Dujardin and while it was disturbing to sell that piece of home, her past, it would help to provide income for years, no doubt, as she had learned to live frugally. Perhaps she and Mary might even live out their lives together.

The entire crew of The Elinor was anxious as there was an expectation that they might actually be home in time for Christmas. They had the ocean currents in their favor as well as the winds to propel them along and there was a fierceness on many of The Elinor crewmen's faces as though they could simply _will_ the ship to sail faster to make up for lost time—time lost because of that pirate fight—and be home with their families for Christmas dinners.

The ship landed at Plymouth on December nineteenth to some crew men's relief and to other's consternation as the crew quickly attempted to restock supplies that they might sail again soon and head for Portsmouth, their home port.

They sailed into Portsmouth harbor with cheers coming from men gathered at the railing on the morning of December twenty-second. Lisette stood with her arm around Mary as they watched the men work to dock the ship; the two friends had done so numerous times but both of their hearts swelled as they looked at that particular quayside and considered what it meant: home.

"We are home, Lisette, home! Only think how much has occurred since we have both left the shores of England!" Declared Mary as they watched and waited for the crew to finish tying off the ship and for the two of them to be able to set foot again in their home country. "Sometimes it seems but a fortnight since I have been gone but things enough have happened. I wonder what has been going on in my own family." Letters from home had not caught up with Mary but she had assumed that her own had at least made it back to Hertfordshire.

"When my grand-mère encouraged me to seek adventure I do not believe she or I could have ever imagined the adventures she was sending me to find," said Lisette who was caught up in Mary's enthusiasm.

They were to spend a few days in Portsmouth, or rather; Mary was to wait for Lisette in Portsmouth as Lisette was to first travel across the Channel to Le Havre to retrieve her necklace and then return before they traveled together on into Hertfordshire and to the Bacon's family home.

"Miss Bacon, Miss Bennet," acknowledged Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake as he came up next to them and they watched as the gangplank was maneuvered into place. They nodded in return.

"Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake, I cannot truly express my thanks for everything that you have done for me," said Lisette turning to the captain. "Your guidance, your help, and your resolve have been invaluable to me; I do not know how I should have _survived_ for want of a better term if you had not been at my side during this trip."

"Your friendship has been without price to me and my crew, Miss Bennet," he replied in turn. "You have serenaded us, kept us company, and your and Miss Bacon's presence always added a bright spot to what were sometimes tedious days." They shook hands with great cordiality.

Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake was to escort Lisette to an agent's office to see about her passage to Le Havre. He was concerned for her safety so wished to see to the task himself; and would then help them find accommodations in port. He had been heartened that they were home in time for the holiday though it was later in the year than he had wished. For once he might spend part of the holiday with his son if he could catch transport up to London.

* * *

"Papa!" Cried a high-pitched voice and Lisette turned to see a boy running towards them, weaving through carts and pedestrians on sure-footed feet. Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake's entire countenance changed and the stern and stoic captain was shed; his face lit up with a sweet happiness she thought she recognized from having seen it on his cousin's face and Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake ran to embrace his son.

"Papa, oh Papa, you came home for Christmas!" Cried the boy as Mary and Lisette watched their reunion. The two stood with their arms wrapped around each other for a long time, the tall father and the young son. Fitzwilliam-Blake had his hand on the top of the boy's head and held him to his chest with a tenderness that made her reach out and clasp Mary's hand in her own. Another couple came up behind them, another father and son, Lisette supposed.

"Fitzwilliam-Blake," called the man and the captain and his son parted.

"Pierce," Fitzwilliam-Blake held out his hand and shook the man's hand with vigor.

"Douglas convinced us to come have a holiday down here to wait you out; we almost despaired of seeing you show," his words might be sharp but his tone was jolly.

"James and I have had ever so much fun at the docks every day," cried Douglas.

"I am not sure if that was the best use of their time," said Mr. Pierce. He seemed to notice the two ladies and turned then with a smile and a nod. Fitzwilliam-Blake introduced Lisette and Mary to Mr. Pierce, Pierce's son, James, and then gently turned his own son fully to face the two women.

"Douglas, this is Miss Bennet and Miss Bacon. They were passengers on board The Elinor. We have had some interesting adventures together," said Captain Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake.

"How do you do?" Said the boy with an awkward bow which turned into a leap as he sprang towards them. "Did you really sail with Papa?" He cried looking up at both of them.

"We did," laughed Lisette who held out her hand and the boy slipped his into it. "We have been to New Orleans and back!"

"New Orleans! Papa," he turned to look at his father, "you did not say you were going to New Orleans, Papa!" His tone indicated he felt he had been cheated at some game.

"That was because of the pirates," said Mary, laughter on her lips as well.

"Pirates!" Cried both boys together.

"Yes, we had some trouble with pirates," said Fitzwilliam-Blake.

Douglas, however, turned to look at Mary with awe on his face as he realized that meant that she had survived the 'trouble with pirates.'

"I want to hear all about it!" Cried Douglas.

"And so you shall. We will have a long holiday. However, I need to escort Miss Bennet and Miss Bacon on some errands," explained the captain. Douglas' face fell as he realized he would need to share his father.

"Perhaps I can help with the ladies' errands while you and Douglas discuss pirates?" Said Mr. Pierce. Lisette assumed he was a guardian to Douglas while Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake was at sea. Douglas' form seemed to spring up at that idea; his happiness radiating out of him in quantities as he stood holding her hand and gazing at his father. His form settled down suddenly.

"Papa, perhaps I can come with you while you take the ladies on their errands?" He asked. Fitzwilliam-Blake looked startled.

"I am not sure if you would not get bored soon, son," he wavered.

The boy let go of Lisette's hand and went to his father's side, tugging at his father's sleeve then and Fitzwilliam-Blake leaned down and Douglas whispered into his ear and the stoic captain's face was back as he listened and nodded his head. "Yes, alright. Douglas wishes to know, Miss Bennet and Miss Bacon, if he might help escort you on your errands and then have tea with you?" He smiled at the end.

"Oh, yes!" Declared Mary and Lisette agreed to the scheme. The one person put out by it was James Pierce whose father insisted that they leave them and that they would meet up later. James would have plenty of time to hear pirate stories from Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake.

Lisette's ticket to Le Havre was readily booked. A ship was to leave the next day and return by Christmas, her passage easily obtained. She used her real name; Lisette was determined to not hide any longer behind a false one. That accomplished, there were one or two small errands they tackled all the while walking with Douglas' firm hand in one of the woman's hands and speaking about their journey. Douglas had a preference for Mary as his awe over her survival of a pirate attack never waned. Neither Lisette nor Fitzwilliam-Blake mentioned her own encounter with the corsairs.

Their last errand was to book a genteel boarding house for the two women to stay at until they were ready to depart for Hertfordshire and then at last they were able to sit down to tea. Pastries and other tea-time delights graced the table as they indulged in an extensive meal, their first on English soil in over half a year.

Once, during their meal, Douglas pulled aside his father and again whispered in his ear, his eyes darting back over at the two ladies and Lisette wondered what he was sharing. Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake kept his stern captain's mask on but his eyes darted up from his son's face to look at Lisette and then at Mary and he smiled though it was also a sad smile.

The streets were dark when their meal was over and the two gentlemen escorted the two ladies back to their boarding house through sometimes crowded and sometimes sparse streets. Lisette spied a shop still alight, almost blindingly so, filled with toys crammed into the bowed window front to tempt last-minute shoppers. The four of them stopped to spy the treasures housed there and she saw a small marionette set, a shepherd and shepherdess, that made her heart ache with remembrance for her friends in New Orleans. Douglas exclaimed over a small wooden ship and then over a wooden pipe—a sailor's flute—as his eyes danced around looking at the toys on display.

"Captain, might you and Master Fitzwilliam-Blake give me and Miss Bacon a few moments to shop here in private and then come to collect us?" Asked Lisette. Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake appeared to understand her intent and he and Douglas walked off looking in other shop windows.

It would be easy to be lost in looking at all of the treasures in that little toy shop but Lisette was able to stick to her purpose and she quickly purchased the little sailor's flute for Douglas. She had been surprised by meeting Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake's son. She had more than once considered the fact that the captain did not speak of his family. He, in that long ago conversation, said that captains need to maintain command and in doing so they did not speak of family as if to do so it made them more familiar or obliging and that somehow ruined their command structure. She was surprised but delighted to meet his son. Lisette wondered then about his circumstances; for he must have lost his wife.

It was just as she was leaving the shop that she turned back into it as she was unable to pass up purchasing the shepherd and shepherdess marionettes and had them wrapped up as well. They left the shop and looked up and down the street but did not see their two gentlemen companions. She was thinking of Douglas and though he was still a boy, small of form, she did not doubt he would soon sprout into a beanpole youth like the midshipmen on the Elinor and become a tall man like his father. They turned at random and walked up the street rather than waiting for their escorts.

The streets were thinning as people hurried to be home rather than linger in the already darkened streets. The pair walked up to one street corner and looked at the crossing which was deserted. They paced farther on and there were more shops though without lights in the windows as merchants had closed early and it seemed that the lamplighters had not come through yet in that section and they did not spy their friends. They turned around because there were no other shoppers and came back down the lane to that first street corner and passed it. It was as just after they had crossed by it that she spied the Captain and Douglas at the far end of the lane, and it was also just then that a hand clapped over her mouth as another clasped an arm around her body and she was dragged out of sight down the side street while another figure dragged Mary Bacon next to her.

* * *

The side street was shadowy with the early winter evening and the closeness of the buildings but Lisette could see a third figure there as she struggled and attempted to kick out at her captors, tried to turn her head against the calloused hand that held her mouth so she might scream but the figure behind held her securely while the third came up with a cloth, whipped it over her eyes and down her face to then gag her quickly once her captor released his hand.

The men similarly gagged Mary Bacon and then cloths were bound around their wrists. Luckily they were tied in front of them and not in that arm-wrenching position behind their backs. They struggled against their captors until one of the men slapped Mary quite hard and then at the threat of such violence Lisette gave over lest they harm her friend again. One man hooked a hand under each woman's arm and dragged them further down that inky street, pausing to hide them up an alley while one walked away. He returned with a wagon in the bed of which they were directed to lie down and they were driven off.

Lisette wondered at this kidnapping and could only hope that it had to do with her father seeking her and not that the men had more illicit intentions. It was impossible to gauge time as they lay huddled next to each other; the darkness meant it was impossible to even see Mary's face though it lay next to hers. She attempted to sidle as close as she could to comfort her friend. Lisette hoped that Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake would note them missing soon and be able to find them. Her two packages had been dropped as she struggled with her captors and she hoped they might give him a clue as to their whereabouts.

The swaying and jostling underneath her stopped and the men let down the gate of the wagon and they were pulled roughly up by their arms, Lisette's shoulder was wrenched in the process bringing tears of pain to her eyes. A travelling carriage stood there, the door thrown open. Only one small lamp burned inside it and a man sat there comfortably, in pride of place. Mary was first forced into the carriage.

"Why are there two?" He cried when Lisette was forced awkwardly next to Mary on the seat opposite from the man. "You were to follow the one and capture her, but why are there two?"

"We were uncertain which one you meant," said a voice from the door.

The man on the seat studied the two women before him. Lisette had eyes only for her dear friend who though she no longer shed tears was still terrified. Mary, however, had survived a pirate attack, Lisette was sure she could survive this encounter and was going to help her through this ordeal or die trying. Lisette reached her bound hands, as much as she was able, out to Mary and they interlaced fingertips.

"I think the small one," said the voice from the seat. "Which of you is Lisette Bennet?" Lisette did not turn at the sound of her name but kept looking at Mary who moved a little closer to Lisette.

"The captain booked the passage so I am not entirely certain which lady it is," continued the man from the door. Lisette moved so she was sitting less awkwardly on the edge of the seat to look at the man in the carriage. He was dressed in dark clothes, the cut of which seemed to be above that of a clerk and yet not quite that of a gentleman and she was perplexed as to his station in life. The thugs who had abducted her and Mary had all been sailors. The man in the carriage leaned over to untie Lisette's gag.

"Tell me if you are Lisette Bennet," he demanded. She did not answer him but stared back as she moved her chin in relief. "Your silence gives me my answer," he said holding up the cloth gag.

She tilted her head a notch. "Perhaps," her throat was rough and raspy, "we are attempting to deceive by having switched places, the lady and I?" He stopped in the process of retying that gag and looked again at the two of them. They were both dressed in the clothes of genteel ladies and he, perhaps, did not know the measure of ladies' clothing enough to tell the cost of them. Lisette's own skirt was from cotton obtained from St. Kitts and hand-made and not tailor-made as Mary's was. Perhaps he _did_ know enough to discern that much as he eyed the pair.

"It seems I am saddled with two guests for the trip to Kent," and he wrapped the gag back around Lisette's mouth. She was thankful she had bred enough doubts that they did not throw Mary out; it would have killed her to have brought Mary to any harm over this. It appeared she was to be taken home to Longbourn, back to her father and Cousin Collins and that forced marriage she had fled so many months ago.

* * *

They rode for hours in that carriage. Mary succumbed to the movement and to sleep but Lisette kept her eyes open as she eyed the dark-clothed man and the one sailor who had climbed in to ride with him. Eventually even the dark man fell asleep but the sailor—of such an undistinguished appearance and weather-beaten face he could have been anywhere between twenty-five and forty—kept his eyes on the two women but without saying anything. Lisette hoped they would present both of them to her father and not one at a time, holding back Mary as some bonus, and she spent her time figuring out how to ensure Mary Bacon's safety for she knew her own end in all of this.

They spent their first night in a large city but the accommodations were not beds at an inn but in an outbuilding of some type in a stall filled with hay and with men standing guard; her captor had no wish to risk staying at an inn.

The next day they were up before dawn and they continued their journey. Eventually they spent another day on the road and another night in a farm building with their largely silent captors staring at them. Lisette knew they were nearing their destination as the man, a master of some sort as the sailors always called him 'master,' said so. She could not make out what his occupation was, this man who had kidnapped them. She eyed him as they rode, for fifteen or sixteen hours a day over two days towards her family home and back towards those locked doors of Longbourn.

It was late, well past supper time, nearing bedtime even, as the air inside turned from the stale, ugly smell of the two men to something a little more familiar and Lisette reckoned that they must be near her home. Their trip had kept them on roads quite near the coast so they had ever been near the sea and its smells but a faint scent of some local yet unidentified flower or plant came to her. She was home. That thought brought her mother's face before her, so similar to her own though having faded and softened over the years. Mrs. Bennet had, in her own way, been a loving mother even if Lisette had not been her favorite child, what daughter does not lean into, and appreciate the attentions and the gentle hand of her mother? Lisette took in a deep breath to not give into melancholy and give up her identity and she looked at her friend whom she found was awake beside her. Lisette pulled a comforting smiled and Mary nodded back.

The carriage halted; the two men inside both sprung out and Lisette nudged her body forward and saw the double doors in that high wall at Longbourn's main gate. The doors were tried, rattled, but did not yield. The small man-sized door that was framed within the gate was then tried and the dark clothed man walked inside to call her father to her and to put an end to her freedom. The sailor and one other came back to the carriage to grab and pull Lisette and Mary out from their places on that stiff and small seat in the carriage. They were dragged inside the double-doored gate and up to stand beside the man, their leader. The Longbourn front door was opened and Hillard stood there.

"The master will see you," he said and opened the door wider; in no way did he acknowledge Lisette. It was a motley party of five—one sailor stayed with the carriage—who were escorted into Mr. Thomas Bennet's study. Their hands were still bound in front of them, though their gags had been removed and an arm was hooked on hers as she was led through the familiar halls of her family home. Her heart beat furiously, pounded against the inside of her corset and her eyesight felt blurred, her head ached causing her to stumble as she was dragged through her former home.

He was seated at his desk, that huge old oak desk that had been in pride of place for generations of Bennet gentleman and afforded them a sense of power, just as it did to her father now as he sat and watched them file in to stand before him.

His eyes were only for her and he searched her face intently as if he could read everything that had happened to her on her face during her seven months away. They dipped down to look at her plain and homemade cotton clothing and a grimace flashed over his face, the disgust easy to read at her appearance.

"Why are there two?" Barked Mr. Bennet.

"We were not certain which lady was your daughter, Sir," said the man in the black clothes.

"How, harbormaster, were you not able to tell?" The disdain in his voice was evident. Lisette contemplated that title 'harbormaster' and realized that such a position was just the one her father needed to keep an eye out for his errant daughter. The harbormaster in each port knew the comings and goings of any ship or boat into and out of a port.

"The captain of the ship that brought them to Portsmouth booked a ticket for a 'Lisette Bennet' to Le Havre. I have had my men follow them ever since, but I have not been able to discern which lady was your daughter," replied the harbormaster.

"I will pay you, as promised. Take the fat one away," and Mr. Bennet waved his hand vaguely at Mary Bacon.

"I will throw myself from an upper window if you let these men take my friend," said Lisette to her father as she pulled herself loose from the sailor who held her and stepped forward. Mr. Bennet stared at her with his cold English eyes.

He took out a chequebook, opened the ink pot on his desk before him and wrote the harbormaster a cheque for his daughter. Sanding it, he then held it up. "Two thousand pounds for two women. Now get out of my house, you smell."

The harbormaster looked from Lisette to Mary to Mr. Bennet as though contemplating just what he would have done with Mary if he had been saddled with her. He then considered the proffered cheque.

"I had not anticipated a cheque, such a thing can be traced and how do I know it is good?" He asked.

"You do not and need to take my word for it. I am not the sort to keep such an exorbitant amount of money here; you shall simply have to figure out a way to cash it without revealing your identity," and he fluttered the cheque in his hand in impatience. The harbormaster looked at his companions, the second of which released Mary. Neither sailor bothered to stop to untie the ladies' bonds but both looked with uncertain eyes at their master and then at the cheque in Mr. Bennet's hand. They had not counted on such an outcome either and were unused to such a thing as a cheque having anticipated coin which is far easier to divvy up.

"How are we to get our share?" Asked one of the sailors.

"That is for you to work out between you," said Mr. Bennet, "now please leave my house."

The two sailors cursed then. Mary gasped in shock and took a step away. The harbormaster took a step forward to take the cheque and bowed to Mr. Bennet as if he had pretensions now of being a gentleman. He turned his back on his benefactor and marched to the door, his two cohorts watching him with reluctant eyes but then followed him with slower feet. The door was opened and she heard it closed; she assumed Hillard was there just outside the door to ensure they were sent out the front door and did not linger.

Lisette turned back to face her father then, and despite her tied hands her anger at their abduction rose up. "How dare you? I do not want to marry Collins! I left to escape such a fate and assume you have dragged me back here for that purpose."

"I have not gone to all this trouble and expense to not have it end the way I wish, daughter, you will do what I want," he was calm despite her outburst. He stood up to be able to look down at her, "your grandmother is dead, she died shortly after you left, in mid-June. I have told the neighbors that you are in deep mourning and have remained sheltered with Mrs. Bennet at home. Your timing is actually most excellent," he turned his back to her to study the shelves behind his desk with disinterest. "Most excellent, my dear, your return to the family home. Your mourning was over two or three days ago so now we can have that wedding. Your cousin never managed to procure that license it seems he got lost on the way to London." He turned back to look at her. "Tomorrow is Sunday. I can have the first of the banns published so in two weeks and a day we shall have that wedding." He looked from her to Mary.

She had considered her frail grandmother many times when she was traveling and the idea of her passing away while Lisette was gone had occurred to her but to have it confirmed was devastating and she stood in shock. Her bound hands came up to pull at stands of her hair that then fell across her face. Lisette shivered and then a sound burbled up from her gut through her chest to escape from her as she cried aloud at this news, shivering again. She cared not if she was undignified, that she was not expressing her grief in a manner befitting a lady. She cried out again as tears came then, complete anguish rolled over her at the loss of her grandmother. Mary came to lean against her.

Her father glared at her. "Stop it, control yourself!" he barked. "Let us go."

Lisette held up her hands, her bound hands out in front of her, and he seemed to not understand though the tears still feel down her cheeks. An eyebrow shot up suddenly and a hand came to rub his chin. He opened a drawer on his desk and produced a letter opener but that instrument failed to cut through her bonds and her father only managed to prick the inside of her arm with its point.

"I shall have to have one of the maids bring up a knife from the kitchen. Along with enough water to wash. I see it is you who smell as well," and he ushered them before him as he walked them from his study and back up to her old rooms. Lisette walked with heavy feet and with tears ever flowing down her cheeks.


	34. Chapter 34

_Down in a leafy dell, Where birds did sweetly sing  
In welcome of the Spring  
Pausing beside a rill  
Where pleasant waters were, A pretty maid was there,  
She loop'd her tresses fair  
As she eas'd her secret care  
With melody so rare:_

 _Oh where art though, my love?  
in tearful grief I rove;  
Come back to me, thy troth to prove;  
None else my heart can move._

 _Soon all the feater'd quire, Took up her plaintive song,  
And trill'd the leaves among,  
Answ'ring her long drawn sighs  
With cheerful liquid notes, From quiv'ring faery throats:  
But chief the Mocking bird,  
As he sang apart was heard:  
Light airs the blossoms stirr'd:_

 _Oh where art though, my love?  
in tearful grief I rove;  
Come back to me, thy troth to prove;  
None else my heart can move._

* * *

Chapter 34

Mary lay sleeping; an angelic form beside her, as Lisette considered how to ensure her friend did not become a pawn in this game, this situation with her father. She would not attempt to outmaneuver him. Lisette could not know or anticipate what he would do to Mary if she refused to comply with his wishes. She knew that she could not predict her father's behavior just like her corsair tormentor; his actions were not at all to be anticipated. That he thought it so important to have her back at Longbourn to pay 2,000 pounds was incredible to her. She had thought 500 pounds such an incredible sum of money when she first heard of the ransom that day in Dieppe.

And as she had discovered with the Butlers, money made men act with unanticipated resolution. Was Mr. Bennet so intent on controlling every little aspect of Lonbourn's legacy that he would not brook this last defiance and must have her wed Mr. Collins? She could not understand him.

At some time in her adventuring she had realized that this tyrannical father had not suddenly come into being simply because his favorite child, Lydie, had run away. He had to have been there hiding below the surface. She considered what their mother had done over the years to hide this man from them. Lisette had spent so many years in the loving arms of Uncle and Tante Philips that she had, perhaps, not see the cracks in his veneer but Lisette wondered if Jeannette and Lydie knew—being more bound to home—and had been eager, therefore, to leave Longbourn.

She looked at her sleeping friend. Mary had sacrificed a lot and Lisette would see her come to no harm. She would do everything Mr. Bennet asked to ensure that Mary escape unscathed, even marry her oily Cousin Collins.

* * *

Her room had been stripped of much of its character; the trunk and the tallboy were gone. The dressing table had been cleared off and all of the drawers had been emptied. All of her clothes were gone. The bed remained with the drapes still in place and her chair which faced the east gardens was still there. Mr. Bennet refused to bring a second for Mary.

He had declared that Mary Bacon could not go home to Hertfordshire to her own family until Lisette was wed lest his plans go astray or he was tricked in some unanticipated way. He did not consider his complicity in her having been abducted only how annoying it was to have to deal with her presence in his house, to have to feed and clothe Miss Bacon. Somewhere, somehow, a second set of clothes had been procured for each of them, no doubt he thought it was a punishment for them but Mr. Bennet did not know the hardships they had endured so neither lady thought anything of only having two dresses to wear. There were to be no visitors besides Mr. Bennet. Even her mother was denied entrance into that room.

Lisette had been banished to her room with nothing to grace her feet and was to stay there barefoot and under lock and key until Mr. Bennet sent for her or came to fetch her—in reality when he came to fetch her to escort her to her wedding. Lisette's resolve to not challenge her father was tested when he and a maid—she was new and pretty, blond like all the others—came the first morning to move Mary to Lydie's rooms next door. Mary declared she did not wish to leave Lisette's side and her friend asked to stay put. Where was the harm? He obviously thought there was as Mr. Bennet shook his head in negation.

"You will sit here in isolation until your wedding day. The first banns were read this morning in church by Reverend Winthrop."

"Mary knows no one and is cut off entirely," declared Lisette. "She is only here because she is caught up by circumstance. What harm can there be with allowing her to stay by my side?" She refused to call him 'Papa' anymore.

"Your friend will move to Lydie's room and you will stay here," he declared pointing vaguely first down the hall and then at the floor. She looked at him; she would not lose her friend; she could not trust her father to afford to lose sight of Mary.

"No," she said to him. "You cannot ask that of her. She needs to remain here with me." Mary stood quietly by Lisette's side.

Father and daughter stared at each other. She thought that her stubbornness came from him as much as she hated to think that there was anything she took from her father. She had learned to value her French side on her voyages and to disdain her Englishness.

He wanted a cooperative, dutiful daughter to comply with his orders and to eventually agree to the vows put to her by the parson in the church in two weeks and a day's time. She could still stand in front of the congregation and decry herself pressured to be there.

"She will have to remain under lock and key with you," he said. Dark and scowling was his face, neither of them had expected to be at loggerheads so soon and there were two more weeks to go until the wedding.

"She is best by my side; she will not be homesick and wishing to return to her family if she is with me," argued Lisette. They looked at each other, daughter and father.

"Very well, but lock and key," and to illustrate the point he left and turned the key in the lock once the door was pulled tight.

"I had not ever imagined how difficult it was for you, Lisette," said Mary and she rubbed her friend's arm. Her name still rolled off of Mary's tongue awkwardly as she still sometimes called her 'Lottie.'

"I am so sorry for all of this, Mary, and can only pray it ends well for you. Do you suppose Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake has surmised what has happened to us?"

"He has to know we are not at our boarding house and will do all in his power to find us, I am sure," Mary assured her, squeezing Lisette's arm. "But since I am with you might he not suppose our disappearance is related not to your ransom but for some other reason? He might think we simply went to visit my family for Christmas."

"I had not considered that. And its being a large port town there are so many ways to leave he would have to check them all."

* * *

D'Arcy did not know her plans in England. He knew she was in the company of her friend, Miss Bacon, and could assume they would be together but did not know what their plans would entail. Lisette would not be, this time, seeking him out. She would not be lingering in port for him; his one relief was that he had the help and knowledge of his cousin. Henry would be spending Christmas with Douglas and D'Arcy could easily locate him.

Henry had sent the note; he knew that cousin would help him and despite earlier misgivings about how much Henry cared for Miss Bennet it seemed that Henry Fitzwilliam-Blake was firmly behind his courtship of Lisette Bennet, and if he had any intentions himself, he had given them up.

Their pursuit of The Elinor was swift, but his boat was slower than The Elinor and they did not dock at Portsmouth until after the New Year, on the 5th of January. D'Arcy headed for his cousin's ship once assured that all was well with Le Cerf Blanc. It was not his cousin but Lieutenant Jenkins who led him into his own quarters once D'Arcy was hailed on board ship.

He was always a quiet man, Henry's shadow, he performed his job brilliantly but was never one for excessive communication and not ever one for socializing. D'Arcy wondered at this tête-à-tête.

"Captain D'Arcy, Sir," began Jenkins his eyes seeking a point somewhere over D'Arcy's shoulder.

"Jenkins?" Encouraged D'Arcy.

"Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake's compliments but he is not here at present." D'Arcy thought he must be with his son then and said so.

"Master Douglas has been staying on board The Elinor, as a treat," answered Fitzwilliam-Blake's second. D'Arcy looked closer at the lieutenant and saw worry where he had only ever seen a stony and silent face.

"Something has happened!" Cried D'Arcy.

"Yes, Sir, and since I believe you are connected with the young ladies and you should know." D'Arcy was standing in Jenkins' small accommodations and could not help his flushed face, his body tensing at the mention of 'ladies.'

"What? What has happened," prompted D'Arcy.

"The two young ladies disappeared while out shopping the day we arrived in port. Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake believes they were abducted but we have had difficulty in tracing them."

D'Arcy slumped against the door a shaking hand attempting to steady himself. Gone again; taken from him. He could not speak and Jenkins stood and looked at him. D'Arcy stared back, a glassy stare and then closed his eyes as he battled weakness; he could barely keep standing. A flask was passed to him, pressed on him and he took a sip of some excellent whisky. He drank and it helped. D'Arcy opened his eyes to stand a little taller pushing himself up against the door and looked at the lieutenant, "thank you," he replied.

"You're welcome," answered Lieutenant Jenkins. D'Arcy ventured one more pull on the flask and then returned it and in doing so stood fully at attention.

"What has been done to recover her? To recover both of them?" He asked.

"Every damned thing we can conceive of," Jenkins answered in his even-toned voice.

"Yes?" Prompted D'Arcy.

"This is a port town so there are many avenues of egress, with multiple roads, both personal and hired carriages to inquire about and many types of ships and boats and many different destinations to consider and check up on," continued Jenkins in his bland voice though his eyes still showed his worry.

"It is a busy port," agreed D'Arcy with an almost equal monotone.

"We have also needed to be discreet—consider the ladies' reputations, you understand," said Jenkins.

"Yes." His thoughts finally were catching up, his mind mapping out the entire scenario. How to trace the two women in such a town that afforded so many means of escape.

"Tell me everything," said D'Arcy. "Are they known to be together?"

Lieutenant Jenkins explained how they had been shopping in the late evening; had been separated from Fitzwilliam-Blake and Douglas for about twenty minutes so as, as had been hinted by Miss Bennet, to purchase a gift for the boy. The shops had been slowly closing and Fitzwilliam-Blake had kept what he thought was a secure eye on the street, but it had proved ineffectual. As the lamplighters had begun their work he had grown worried and returned to the toy store and had not discovered them. After many more minutes of frantic searching Fitzwilliam-Blake had found a package in a side street with a toy whistle and a pair of marionette dolls which he guessed to have been Miss Bennet's and was an indication they had been dropped in a hurry, as if during a struggle.

Since they were last seen together the assumption was that the two women were still together. But there had been no coach that had been traced with two women on it, no carriage hired where two women were seen being taken from the city. The possibility of being smuggled out in a boat seemed the most likely scenario but it was impossible to check up on passengers, illicit passengers, in that case. Gauthier D'Arcy's heart sank as he realized the enormity of the situation and how easily it was to make a person or two disappear completely and without leaving much of a trace in such a place as a port.

"And you've checked with the harbormaster?" He asked.

"Now! That is an odd thing, Captain, the harbormaster took a long holiday break at Christmas and has not yet returned," remarked Jenkins.

"A harbormaster does not usually leave his post for so long," remarked D'Arcy.

"No," agreed Jenkins.

"You know about the purported ransom?" D'Arcy raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," the second nodded his head.

"Has Henry done any checking to see if she was returned to her family, perhaps against her will?" D'Arcy thought he might need more of that whisky. Her family wished her back to force her into a marriage she did not want. What if that exact scenario had already occurred? It had been almost two weeks since her disappearance. Why had he not been able to arrive in England sooner?

"That was to be our next line of inquiry," answered Mr. Jenkins.

* * *

For days they were under lock and key with meals brought to them by a maid. Most of the time Mr. Bennet was the one who unlocked that door to let the servant in with the tray, and then to watch her leave quickly once it had been placed on the dressing table, taking away the previous tray, the door locked behind the maid's retreating form.

Mary and Lisette were well used to being together; there had been those long days were they had been reduced to each other's company when the weather had been such that they could not go up on deck when at sea. There were always topics of conversation to be found and discussed. They often talked what would happen to Mary once Lisette's wedding day came and went. Mr. Bennet would give no promises when applied to—he kept all of his cards close to his chest. He would not state his intentions as though to do so would give Lisette some power in the arrangement. Lisette simply wished to ensure that Mary was returned to her family but no promise, no discussion ever happened. Their one hope remained their friends on The Elinor and that Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake would be looking for them, he would figure out what had occurred and would find them.

Lisette had told so many tales about herself that she wondered if Fitzwilliam-Blake knew exactly _where_ to look for them, did he remember what was true and what was a lie, what was the correct story? He at least knew her real name but there had been so many half-truths that part of her did not cling to too much hope that he could figure out that Meryton, near Dover, was where to come, Longbourn was the family estate and that Thomas Bennet was her father. He might be clever enough to tap into the rumors about Lisette Bennet and discover her past that way.

Once or twice the maid bringing them the meal would come without the supervision of Mr. Bennet and would come through the servant's door in the dressing room and Lisette always made a point of checking to see if that door was locked when the maid left. She knew her father locked the door as there was always the sound of the key in the bedroom door when he left but she could not hear the key turning in the dressing room door.

And one day the dressing room door was left unlocked.

It was not a maid she knew; all of the maids were unknown to her. She suspected that her father did not trust her if there were any familiar faces below stairs to send up to her room. She thought it was simple negligence, but it might have been sympathy from one of the servants. She considered what to do with that unlocked door.

Lisette did not think that she could run away, without shoes or money, she knew it would not be a successful venture to flee, but her father had not mentioned that his own father had passed away so she considered paying a visit to Grandfather Bennet.

It happened to be the morning meal after that unlocked door was discovered and she knew the risks of being seen during the day would be high. She hoped that the servants would be occupied and her father busy enough that she could accomplish it and no one would note her disappearance from the room for a few hours.

Mary had no wish to be parted from her so she offered to come with Lisette to her grandfather's house. Mary, at least, had the benefit of a pair of shoes. Lisette went in her bare feet but after all of her adventures, she knew she could brave the walk in her bare feet to see her grandfather.

They ventured out of the room and down the servant's staircase listening for activity and had to scurry back up as they heard the sound of footsteps and waited with beating hearts until the sounds quieted venturing down again to the door they peered outside and braved the yard. They went the long way around, through the east garden gate and not through the main gates of Longbourn.

Lisette kept mainly to the grassy verge which made the walking easier on her feet, not that they did not find the occasional pebble before they came to the Dowager House. Bellamy answered and despite years of having perfected the indifferent face of a butler he could not help showing his surprise at her visit.

"Miss Lisette!" The butler cried with a smile blooming on his face.

"Is grandfather at home?" She asked. To see such a friendly greeting made a warmth glow inside.

"He is!" Said the butler, "please come inside."

"This is my friend, Miss Bacon," she said and indicated Mary.

She was surprised to find that her grandfather was not alone but Mr. William Lucas, the son, was visiting. He stood to attention when Bellamy announced the two ladies.

"Lisette!" Cried her grandfather, "my dearest." And she ran to his chair. He remained seated as getting to his feet had always been an issue.

"Miss Lisette!" Cried Mr. Lucas, "such a pleasure," he bowed and then he glanced over at Mary and smiled and bowed towards her in anticipation.

"Mr. Lucas, may I present my friend Miss Bacon? Mary, this is Mr. Lucas." The two curtsied and bowed in greeting.

Lisette turned to look at her old friend. "Mr. Lucas might I ask a favor? Could you take Miss Bacon outside and entertain her while I speak to my grandfather? Mary, would you mind taking a stroll in the garden?"

"No, Lisette, no," answered Mary and she looked with a smile at Mr. Lucas. The two said their goodbyes to Mr. Bennet.

Lisette knelt down at her grandfather's side to touch him on the arm, tears lightly dusting her eyes. "And are you well?"

"Yes, dearest, I am well. It has been ever so long since you have visited me, my dearest Lisette." He reached out a spotted and weathered hand and patted her own.

"I went searching for the mysteries of life, grandfather," she said softly looking at his old wrinkled face that was yet so familiar to her.

"And how did you fare?" He sat up a little straighter.

"I discovered it was love though I cannot say it has been an easy lesson to learn," her voice choked a little.

"Only the lessons we work hard to learn stay with us. That makes you a wise woman, dear." He patted her arm again. She sat down on the footstool by his chair.

"I have been across the world and back. I have experienced ship voyages, a hurricane, pirates, hardship, found loyal friends and I have fallen in love, grandfather," her voice was clearer this time.

"You must tell me all about it, my dearest granddaughter."

So she poured out her heart to her aged grandfather. He sat largely mute and wide-eyed as she talked of her lessons learned, of her dangerous mistakes, the engaging people she had met and of Captain D'Arcy and all of their misunderstandings. How she loved him and yet was unsure she would ever she him again. And of her father's plans to have her marry William Collins in four days.

After her story was over silence settled into the room. She could hear the soft purring of her grandfather's unnamed gray cat on his lap. Sometimes the cat so blended in with the his gray tangled lap blankets and grandfather's gray coat that she did not notice the cat but she heard him purring contentedly now.

"Your grandmother was the love of my life. I find every day without her a trial," he said softly and a hand stroked the cat whose purrs erupted strongly and almost drowned out her grandfather's next words, "I should hate to see you separated from your true love."

"I thank you, grandfather, for that sentiment." It was enough that he had changed his tune from thinking his son knew best about her heart to allowing her to know what lay in its depths.

They sat again in silence. His eyes were closed and Lisette was not certain if he was thinking or asleep.

"I believe, my dearest, I have some points to ponder," and a crinkly smile graced his face as his eyes opened.

"Yes, grandfather. I should be getting us back before we are missed." She laughed then. "I love you grandfather, it has been a lovely visit."

"You are my dearest, dearest darling," he said though his eyes were closed once more and she rose and left him and the gray cat to their nap or their thoughts.

Bellamy, on inquiry, directed her to the small rose garden and she found Mary Bacon and William Lucas on a bench each with a look of intense interest and Lisette could see Mary was speaking when she first spied them but then heard William speaking as she approached.

"…but did you notice that the author's assertion for that point…" They had obviously found topics of interest between them.

"Mary, Mr. Lucas," she called and they looked up at her almost with surprise. William Lucas stood.

"Miss Lisette! What a delightful morning I have had with Miss Bacon!" He turned to gaze down at her friend and Mary looked up at him, her face lit with a warmth that had nothing to do with the weather. "She is such a delightful young lady, well-read, intelligent, such a joy to speak to!"

"Thank you, Mr. Lucas," she looked at Mary who, rather than being shy seemed to glow on hearing his kind words.

"I venture to ask if I might call upon her, upon you both, at Longbourn?" He blushed as he spoke.

Lisette could not keep her face from falling into a bitter frown then.

"I am afraid, Mr. Lucas, we have an issue," she paused. "The dilemma is this, we were not supposed to leave the house or make social calls until after my marriage." It was not a lie but not the whole truth. She did not want to bring this kind, sweet gentleman into her troubles—to get him into any difficulty for she recalled her father's wrath against him last spring—so she strove to put him off for a few more days.

"I have been in mourning, see, for grand-mère which is why the wedding was delayed but that is in four days. Could you, perhaps, wait four more days before you call on us at Longbourn?" Asked Lisette.

He looked down at Mary Bacon who smiled sweetly up at him and Lisette thought,' what an amicable pair they are.'

"Yes, Miss Lisette. I can wait four days to call," he answered though a little note in his voice held some regret.

"Thank you," she said. She put out a hand to his arm. "Could you keep it under wraps that you saw us as well?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"If you need to share with someone, tell Charlotte, she will be discreet." She held her hand out to her friend and Mary rose.

"Mr. Lucas, it has been such a pleasure to meet you," said Mary and she held out her own hand to William Lucas and they shook agreeably. Mr. Lucas seemed reluctant then to let go of that hand but they parted ways.

They walked in silence back to Longbourn both women lost in thought as they walked the long way around to the east entrance when a form came racing towards them, a fat, orange one crashing out of the bushes.

"Le Poisson!" Cried Lisette

"Le Poisson?" Mary understood enough French—had eaten enough fish while on board The Elinor—to look at Lisette with a confused expression.

"We thought it a good joke when we were younger to so name a cat," said Lisette as she reached over to gather the fat ginger cat in her arms. Her old friend purred and allowed her to scratch an ear before he suddenly wiggled loose and leaped from her arms leaving a mark and a spot of blood on her hand.

The two friends crept back to Longbourn and back up the stairs to their gaol cell.


	35. Chapter 35

_The heavy hours are almost past,  
That part my love and me;  
My longing eyes may hope at last  
Their only wish to see.  
But how my dear will you meet  
The man you've lost so long;  
Will love in all your pulses beat  
And tremble on your tongue?  
Will love in all your pulses beat  
And tremble on your tongue?_

* * *

 _Chapter 35_

Lisette agreed to a pale yellow dress for the wedding though she thought it did nothing for her complexion. Her last few days were ones of fittings and then one last display of the wedding gown before Mr. Bennet to ensure it met her father's satisfaction. Mr. Bennet came to the room to see the silk and lace creation though it was not on a par with that blue one Madame Clémence had created for her. Lisette thought that lady a far more talented seamstress than Mrs. Wells from Meryton. Mr. Bennet was keeping everything local and as under wraps as was possible this time. When they left the gown and shoes were ferreted away and it was just Mary and her in the darkening room as a sob broke out from Lisette.

"Dearest!" Cried her friend.

"Mary, I wish my mother was allowed to come see the dress and to fuss over me today. That might make my impending doom more manageable somehow," said Lisette with tears trailing down her cheeks.

"Are you close to your mother?" Asked Mary.

"Not really, but she did care for me in her own way. I believe she loves me—that she loved all three of us—she was perhaps overwhelmed with her own unhappy marriage and she lost sight of all the care and comfort she might provide to me." Lisette was thoughtful. "No, that was wrong of me. I believe she has done much to shield me, to shield all three of us, from our father in ways I will never know. Her sister, Tante Amandine, and grand-mère, both did so much for me. Mamma was very supportive of that. See, when I consider it, she did care for me very much—she got me away from him, Mamma did, in her own way by supporting my going to the Philips'."

"And is he, Mr. Bennet, to allow her to attend tomorrow? I cannot believe he has forbidden you two to speak to each other all this time," remarked Mary. She was deeply concerned for Lisette, looking pale and perhaps even a little hollow-eyed from sharing Lisette's trials.

"He has to. This is all about appearances," said Lisette.

"And you will truly go through with it?" They were both quiet for a long time.

"I owe this to you and your safety, your care Mary, do you not see?" Lisette finally answered.

"Surely Mr. Bennet would not keep me under lock and key and forbid me returning home if you did not make your vows in church tomorrow?" Exclaimed her friend.

"Mary, you deserve to go home to your family; to see your mother and father and sisters. Besides, then Mr. Lucas can come to call!" Mary blushed. They had spoken about Mr. Lucas a number of times in the past few days.

"I should like to speak to him more; he is one of the most agreeable gentleman I have ever met," admitted her friend the blush adding a sweet glow to her pale cheeks.

"And his family is one of the best as I have explained. I cannot wait for you to meet Charlotte. She is sensible, intelligent and was ever one of my best friends since an early age," Lisette attempted to lighten the mood between them.

"I look forward to meeting all of them," said Mary. "I wish it was not to be at your wedding breakfast, however," and she pursed her lips at that thought.

* * *

They settle in bed but Lisette could not sleep considering it was to be her last free night. She eventually got up to sit in the chair that overlooked the window out into the east garden. Though it was winter and a typically cold night she cracked open the window and pushed at it, the iron hinges squeaked in protest and she looked out into the darkness the cold air coming in to bite at her cheeks and to nip at her forehead.

Lisette shivered not only because of the cold, she shivered at the true thought of marrying William Collins tomorrow morning, of the lavish wedding breakfast that was no doubt planned. The couple was to remain at Longbourn; there was to be no wedding trip. That had been communicated to her by her father though she had not seen her fiancé as she was not allowed out of her room and propriety dictated a gentleman was not allowed in a lady's bedroom. She was glad as it was one less person to deal with.

 _To be gazing on those charms,  
To be folded in those arms,  
To unite my lips with those  
Whence eternal sweetness flows;  
To be lov'd by one so fair,  
Is to be bless'd beyond compare._

She wondered if she was imaging Captain D'Arcy's voice now that her life was at its end. But this was a different song than the one he had sung at the ball. Lisette clasped the cold metal of the window sill and leaned out into the freezing air. She spied a figure in the faint black of the night below her. Even shrouded in darkness she knew him.

 _Pains of love are sweeter far,  
Than all, all, all other pleasures are.  
Pains of love are sweeter far,  
Than all, all, all other pleasures are._

Her song to him was short and soft and her voice broke with a sob at the end.

"Lisette, my sweetness," said his voice carrying up to her.

"Captain D'Arcy," she replied.

"My dearest Lisette, I love you," his voice was slightly hoarse as if the cold air was affecting it, or perhaps it was the intensity of his love. "I believe I have loved you since you ordered me to show you to your stateroom the day you walked aboard my ship," she peered down intently; he really was down there, a figure in the dark beneath her window. "Will you marry me?" He asked.

"Yes," she answered without hesitation.

"You are Lisette Bennet and not Elisabetta or Lottie?" There was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Yes, I am Lisette Bennet," she answered.

"Good because that is what is on the special license because, as you pointed out, a captain cannot marry himself."

"I am supposed to be married today to my Cousin Collins," she began to explain.

His form was dressed in shadows and yet she could tell his entire countenance changed. He stepped away, though still looking up, as if to see her more clearly.

"My father, he is forcing me into this," she continued, "my father—you know that is why I ran away. He is threatening to not let Miss Bacon return to her family if I do not agree with his wishes."

"Do not worry, my loveliest Lisette, all will be well," he said, "I will make it right."

"I wish I could come away with you right now," her voice grew hoarse with the cold.

"I did not think to bring a rope to rescue you," he answered. "And all the doors are locked, I have tried them." Again there was a slight chuckle.

"I believe I have had enough descends from windows in my adventuring but I need to ensure Mary is taken care of too in all of this. I fear she could not make it out of the window," she cried.

"Do not fear, all will be well," he repeated. "I _will_ make it right." He moved a little as though he was attempting to discern her equally shrouded figure up in the darkened window. "I love you. Bonsoir."

"Bonsoir," she whispered her hands still clutching at the cold metal frame of the window sill.

* * *

The morning was a whirl of activity: baths, dressing and the curling of hair. Once she was dressed and the maids had left she stood to look at herself in her unbecoming dress in the mirror. Her face, Lisette looked at her face. It had filled in since that day she had stared at a partially starved, sleep-deprived prisoner just off of that corsair ship. She had, however, never quite gotten rid of that haunted, slightly wild look in her eyes. She could be the pretty nightingale in a gilt cage and marry Cousin Collins but this would be the death of her, she knew. Some creatures did not do well in captivity, it suffocated them, would be their end. Unless Captain D'Arcy truly was able to come for her she would not last. Grand-mère had said she would turn into an old lady unless she escaped but she would die as an old lady here, a married lady of twenty-one if he did not come and save her from this marriage.

Lisette could brook no breakfast. Part of her was certain she had imagined the entire scene with Captain D'Arcy at her window in the middle of the night and could only wonder what would occur that morning to stop her wedding. In many ways it was like any other morning just Mary and her in the bedroom, maids having fussed about to help them dress, food being brought, small talk. Then Mrs. Bennet walked in.

"Babette," it was a whispered voice.

"Mamma," and Lisette rushed to her and hugged her tightly, an act so uncharacteristic of either of them. Her mother held onto her just as tightly.

"I am sorry," said Mrs. Bennet.

"I am sorry about grand-mère, that I was not here," Lisette cried in her mother's arms.

"She drifted away peacefully dear, so Mrs. Mayhew said."

"I am sorry I was not here," Lisette repeated, crying.

"I hoped you had truly gotten away dear, like Lydie," Mrs. Bennet leaned back and peered at her second daughter. "He is a tyrant if he does not have his way in all things." Her brow contracted. "I should have known. He would not take no for an answer when he asked me to marry him. I had been unsure back then but gave way to him and have set precedence. I have not been able to deviate from it in all these years."

Lisette cried even harder then. "Oh, Mamma! I cannot image such a life. You have been _so_ _brave_ all of these years. You have done so well as a mother for all three of us. I know that deep down in my heart."

Mrs. Bennet's eyes teared up then. "Thank you my dear." They embraced again, weeping on each other's shoulders.

When their tears abated Lisette introduced Mary. Mr. Bennet came soon after to fetch all three.

They rode to the church in silence. Mr. Bennet had a look of triumph emanating from his eyes and his figure that he could not hide, a glow of game won as they pulled up by St. Albans church. The hired groom opened the carriage door and held out a hand and Mrs. Bennet alighted from the carriage followed by Mary Bacon. Lisette took in a few shallow breaths; she felt she could not breathe properly as she looked down the long stone pathway that led to the church. The grounds of St. Albans were extensive having been endowed by some patron long ago. She wondered if this was how a condemned prisoner felt in walking to her execution, or even simply walking through a prison door never to see the outside of a gaol cell again.

They were to enter via the south Transept door rather than through the main west door in the Nave as she had so often done when attending services all those years growing up; walking up the aisles to the family pew in prominence at the front of the church next to the Earl of Pett's pew. A few figures were still lingering outside of the church, she could see, as she stepped from the carriage, there were men beneath the southern windows of the church and some other figures still entering through that main door to her left as she watched though she could not distinguish anyone in particular.

Lisette heard her father swear under his breath, late-comers were not to his liking and she saw him staring at the figures which stood unmoving beneath the church's windows.

"Get a move on," she was not sure if he was addressing her or the figures but Lisette found it within herself to begin walking towards the Transept door and her wedding. Voices suddenly carried over to her, voices in harmony and her throat closed up—she had been having enough trouble breathing already that she feared she might faint—and she had to open her mouth in a most unlady-like way to gasp for air. The voices were singing in Breton and singing a song she was entirely familiar with. Lisette did not turn to look at them but thought she could count three figures there out of the corner of her eye and knew then that this was not a condemned woman's walk towards her last imprisonment. It was beneath her father to say anything to the men but his grip was iron-hard on her arm as he dragged her along and that triumphant glow about him had vanished as they neared the church and entered its depths.

Lisette was stowed in the Lady Chapel and told to stay put while Mr. Bennet ensured that all was in readiness. Mrs. Bennet and Mary Bacon had been shown in to take their seats in the family pew. Lisette stood in her pale yellow dress fidgeting with the fabric under her fingers and wondering how Captain D'Arcy would manage to engineer saving her from such an irretrievable fate as marriage to Mr. Collins. Was she expected to not say her vows, was Captain D'Arcy waiting in the church to whisk her away?

It felt like an hour had passed before her father came to collect her and led her tightly bound to his side as they walked to the front of the altar where Reverend Winthrop was waiting to marry her to her cousin, Mr. Collins. Mr. Bennet was at her left side and blocked her view out onto the congregation and her glance over that expanse of people did not reveal a single face that was not a Meryton neighbor. Her heart sank as she was left wondering at how her rescue was to play out.

Lisette's hand was clasped by her cousin whose smile sent a shiver down her back. He was dressed in an acid green jacket with silver trim, his breeches matched with trim around the knees. His waistcoat was of coral silk and embroidered all over with flowers. The clocks on his stockings were of a darker orange hue. His wig was tidy; his shoes black. He was like a garish bird, some exotic parrot not at all an English songbird.

"Lisette," he whispered with throaty triumph and she felt she would retch and was pleased she had not eaten. Mr. Bennet kissed her cheek in a show of ceremony and presumably went to sit down with his wife—Lisette could only stare in front of her—and Reverend Winthrop began speaking. He had a monotonous voice and she could not listen to the words, they had no meaning to her; not like a song, her countless songs, where the words were ever important. These words, that were to bind her to this odious man, she could not listen to them and stared straight ahead towards the Chancel and willed her stomach to remain still.

"…No one should enter into it lightly or selfishly but reverently and responsibly in the sight of almighty God. Lisette and William are now to enter this way of life. They will each give their consent to the other and make solemn vows, and in token of this they will each give and receive a ring. We pray with them that the Holy Spirit will guide and strengthen them, that they may fulfil God's purposes for the whole of their earthly life together." Reverend Winthrop stopped and looked at them and Lisette wondered at the pause.

"I am required to ask anyone present who knows a reason why these persons may not lawfully marry, to declare it now."

"Je fais!" Shouted a voice.

"Je fais!" Came another.

"Je proteste!" Said a voice she recognized, the young aspirant, Le Fevre, and her heart began pumping again, her lungs expanded for a great swallow of air and Lisette could not help but cry out loud and then reached up to cover her mouth. She turned to see the back rows of the church filled with Le Cerf Blanc Sailors. Lisette could see Le Fevre and Carbonneau, Cartier and there at the aisle was St. Denis though she could not see Captain D'Arcy.

Lisette turned back to look at Reverence Winthrop. He had a confused look on his face and he was looking at her cousin, who was, ostensibly, his master and employer.

"I do not know what to do," he whispered leaning over towards Mr. Collins who was red-faced at this disruption to his wedding. Cousin Collins glared over at her with anger and then looked over his own shoulder to his cousin Bennet in the front pew.

"Carry on, they are but youths and fools playing games," growled Mr. Bennet.

"Je proteste."

"Je proteste," rang out again and again.

"Elle ne l'aime pas cette limace minaudant, elle aime notre capitaine!" Called out Carbonneau.

"Elle ne l'aime pas ce crapaud," yelled Cartier.

"You…will…continue," demanded Mr. Bennet glaring at this underling curate. The one he had hired so his idiotic cousin would not have to actually perform any work. The curate was a man of so little consequence Mr. Bennet had had very little dealings with him and knew next to nothing about him, only that he was on his payroll and therefore under his command.

"I must question the claim and my French is not good," said Reverence Winthrop. "If the men, only one or two, will come forward." He gestured with his hands.

"I speak English, and I will repeat," said St. Denis, walking up the aisle, "she does not love this toad, but she loves our captain."

"Oui," said Cartier who walked up beside St. Denis.

"Who is your captain?" Asked the clergyman who ignored the grumblings and protestations of both Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins while the entire congregation watched the two officers come to stand next to Lisette and bow to her before answering.

"Captain Gauthier D'Arcy," said St. Denis with pride and a nod of his head.

"Why is he not here?" Asked the parson and he waved his hand out at the congregation, at the seated guests and at the army of sailors standing at the back.

"He is coming with friends," explained St. Denis, "we expect him momentarily."

"This is enough!" Shouted Mr. Bennet standing up and throwing a hand out in front of him, "this farce has gone on long enough! There has been a disruption but there is no captain, this has all been a little game to discredit me and to discredit the honorable Mr. Collins here on his wedding day which should be the happiest day of his life. Get on with it, the ceremony if you please!"

"I will not," said Reverence Winthrop staring back at Mr. Bennet.

"And why not?" Asked Mr. Bennet who was so red in the face Lisette thought her father might be having an attack of some sort.

"Because I believe we have more guests," and Reverend Winthrop pointed down the aisle to a trio who was walking up it.

Grandfather Bennet was being escorted into the church between Captain D'Arcy and the Earl of Pett. Lisette's eyes instantly captured Captain D'Arcy's, his tall form supporting her grandfather; he was grinning at her, not that scowl, not that sweet smile but a grin of such happiness that again she had to take in a deep breath and then she was running towards them, not mindful of any proprieties. When she reached them, her hands fell to her grandfather's shoulders and she kissed him. His eyes twinkled with a certain amusement and liveliness she had not seen in a long time.

"My dearest grandfather," said Lisette. She looked then at the earl, a man she did not really know but she smiled warmly up at him.

"Thank you," she said and curtsied to him. They walked slowly up towards the altar all of them supporting Mr. Bennet. The Earl of Pett helped her grandfather to sit down. Once she saw him seated comfortably, she turned to look at her captain. He stood tall and proud and that smile, so uncharacteristic a look on his face was still beaming down at her, and Lisette thought it could only be described as heartfelt delight. He held his arm out to her and she took it and they turned to see the entire congregation staring at them. The smiles on their faces did not diminish as they looked back at the serene Reverend Winthrop, a pale Mr. Collins and a red-faced Mr. Bennet who came to stand next to his cousin up near the altar.

"And you are this captain I take it?" Asked the clergyman.

"I am," replied her lover.

"Your men have made claims of a prior engagement with this lady," Reverend Winthrop's voice had lost its monotonous quality and now was clear and carried to every corner of the church.

"I have asked her to marry me and been accepted," D'Arcy looked down at Lisette on his arm and she looked up at him and squeezed his it in response.

"She is to marry him, Collins," said Mr. Bennet pointing to her cousin as if they needed clarification as to identities.

"He never asked me, it was arranged without my consent," said Lisette. "I do not wish to marry Mr. Collins. I am in love with Captain D'Arcy," she cried. She thought she heard a few cheers from the back row of the church.

"I refuse to give my consent you are still my daughter!" Cried her father.

"I am of age," answered Lisette. Mr. Bennet looked then as though he was trying to overcome his anger and settle his emotions within himself. He took a few deep breaths. It was not a moment for gaiety and yet Mr. Bennet still seemed as if he felt he could argue his points and succeed. He smiled sweetly as he changed his tactics.

"What are you doing? Are you out of your senses to have accepted this man? You are determined to have him. He is not nearly as rich; I am sure, as your cousin is to be. He cannot give you fine clothes or the finest carriages money can buy. How will he make you happy?" Argued Mr. Bennet.

"I do not need carriages to make me happy. Do you have any other objections?" She replied.

"I am sure he is a proud, aloof, disagreeable and bad-tempered man like all sea captains," said her father.

"I love him. You do not know what he really is like so pray do not pain me by speaking of him in such uncouth and illiterate terms," she answered.

"I cannot give my consent. I refuse to consent to this…union. I refuse to give you your dowry. Let me advise you to think better of it. You will have no money, shall want for the basics, I am sure. You will be neither happy nor respectable. He does not deserve you." He paused and then continued with what he hoped was a lighter and more persuasive tone. "Mr. Collins is the man who deserves you." He pointed to the exotic parrot standing next to him as though he was obviously the most worthy man in the church.

"It matters little to me when I have tackled and solved the mysteries of life and found that the answer is love. And I have found that love is this man," she looked up again into D'Arcy's eyes and felt such love as she gazed at him that it must surely be visible to every person in that church, though apparently, her father could not discern it.

Grandfather Bennet perked up then from his seat next to the Earl. He looked at his granddaughter and then his son.

"Granddaughter, you are wise for your years. Son, you are a fool and I think I want my house back."

Of all the events from that morning there was nothing more wounding than perhaps that statement and Mr. Thomas Bennet stared at his elderly father, his face went red then white and then he stepped back to trip on the innocent kneeler there and landed awkwardly in a sitting position next to his peacock heir. He kicked his heel at the kneeler for daring to trip him up.

"Perhaps you need to learn your place in this world," said Mr. James Bennet to his son, "and the importance of things like love as your children have, how are they so smart yet you are so ignorant?"

"Wait!" Cried Mr. Collins. "We have had the banns published; she is to marry me!" He stood there in his brightly colored clothes and turned to face Captain D'Arcy. "How can she possibly marry you?" It seemed odd to hear him challenge a sea captain. He was a taller than average man but Captain D'Arcy exceeded him in height.

"She marries me because she loves me," D'Arcy said. "I also have a special license." He produced the document from inside his coat and handed it to the parson. He grinned again though behind that grin there were still remnants of that sweet, shy smile and Lisette felt an overwhelming need.

"I need you to kiss me first," she said to him, not caring that the others present heard her request.

He looked at her with an expression that was half questioning and half amused and offered Lisette, his bride, his arm. The Earl stood up to stand guard at the church door as D'Arcy escorted her out of sight of the congregation through the Transept door. There was no secluded retreat for them, no walls to truly hide them from curious eyes if friends choose to peer through the windows as there were few trees to provide them cover as they walked a ways from the church before they stopped.

D'Arcy had schooled his face and it was ever its expressionless, captain-in-command look which she had so often seen. She thought he was to be English; he was, after all, on English soil. She wanted to have none of it and planted her hands on his chest running them down to his waist. She could feel the contours of his muscular body beneath her touch and his hands came to hold her arms then snaked around her shoulders as she ran her hands back up his chest.

D'Arcy pressed a light kiss to her temple she answered with a firm hand on his arm. His kisses radiated out from there; he kissed her forehead and cheeks with deliberation, each spot with firmness, a certainty, and not moving on until he had claimed it as though a bee sipping nectar from a flower and ensuring he visited every flower on a bush. His hands gripped her shoulders yet more tightly and his kisses moved to her ears and neck. Lisette's knees weakened at that point and her entire body sagged in his secure hold.

Her hands came up to grip his arms as his lips melted into hers. She clung onto his arms as she had often clung onto the ship's railing when the wind picked up on board all those days at sea, unexpectedly, battering at her, teasing her. His safe and secure arms held her, his lips tantalized her, caressed her, sending shivers down her neck, tingling her spine and made her open her lips to gasp aloud with pleasure which made D'Arcy's breath come in quick, deep breaths as they continued to kiss, his grip on her never failing.

Those shivers ran down to her legs and her knees finally did give way and D'Arcy caught her, his hands moving down to hold her securely against him while he finally pulled his lips from hers to look at her. Lisette reached out a tentative hand to touch his face, ran it along his jawline with delicate fingertips. D'Arcy drew in a quick deep breath while those same fingers then ran along his lower lip. She smiled at him, a smile which seemed to burst out of her, and was not confined to simply a small expression of her own lips. He kissed her fingertips in return; one hand let loose its grip on her back to capture that hand and to then turn and twist it that he could press kisses on the fingers, the back of the hand, the palm and the wrist. She pulled it loose from his grip to run it up his shoulder to his neck and he leaned over again to hold her and to press on her another long, deep kiss.

Her joy radiated out of her, through her lips, through her arms up over his chest through every fiber of her being as she answered the call of love and gave in to its ruling of her heart. Her song swirled from her head down, permeated her heart and she felt content, knew she had set out to seek and had found and would nevermore be parted from love. It was finished, her song, that last line was finally complete.

 _Ah! Sweet mystery of life, at last I've found thee  
Ah! at last I know the secret of it all  
All the longing, seeking, striving, waiting, yearning  
The idle hopes and joy and burning tears that fall._

 _For 'tis love and love alone the world is seeking  
And 'tis love and love alone I've waited for  
And my heart has heard the answer to its calling  
For it is love that rules for evermore._

D'Arcy gasped, his lips still pressed to hers and those lips spread into a smile, a heartfelt smile. He pulled away to look down at her and Lisette drew a breath at the devotion and love she saw, her own smile breaking on her face, her grip on his body tightening. His arms flexed and he suddenly lifted her from the ground and twirled her in his arms; a bark of laughter calling out from him as they turned and then he sank to his knees, gathering Lisette to his chest to hold her there murmuring soft, low words of love. Lisette lay with her head against his chest feeling his heart beat, his breath coming quickly and a little unevenly as he held her firmly and yet with the gentleness that was his hallmark.

"I love you," she said to his chest.

A hand came to her forehead to hold her against him, as though to never let her go. He stroked her hair with a delicate touch. "Je t'aime," he answered. The hand came down to her shoulder to press her ever against him. That there were people waiting for them, perhaps watching, seemed not to occur to them as they nestled together in the churchyard at St. Albans in each other's arms.

Like a cat is want to do, Le Poisson had no qualms about approaching them though others, secretly watching might have. The fat orange cat was there at an elbow, nudging with his nose, worming in between a dark coat and a pale yellow dress purring his entrance, his mighty presence, his importance to them as their chaperone. They let loose their hold of each other to stare down at the intruder on their lap and gave way to laughter then. D'Arcy leaned over to press one last quick kiss on Lisette's lips despite the thunderous purrs. Lisette then gathered the stalwart messenger in her arms.

"I believe he is here to remind us to return to the church and to continue with our wedding," she said looking at her groom.

D'Arcy smiled again and helped Lisette to her feet and they began to walk back towards St. Albans.

The Earl of Pett eyed the couple and could not help but feel he was glad that his two sons had been too young to marry any of the Bennet daughters and that Mr. Thomas Bennet had never suggested such an alliance.

* * *

When Lisette Bennet and Captain D'Arcy entered St. Albans there were new visitors, Henry and Douglas Fitzwilliam-Blake and officers from The Elinor had arrived.

"Miss Bennet!" Exclaimed Captain Fitzwilliam-Blake as they came through the Transept door and the worry he had experienced about her disappearance was there on his face. He strode up to stand before her, schooling his face only to look down at her then as a concerned brother, "you are well?"

"Truly I am well, Captain, truly I am well," she said nodding and grinning and held out her hand. "Shall you stay to see us marry?" and her eyes danced in merriment as he shook her hand and looked at his cousin.

"It would give me the greatest of pleasures," and he bowed over her hand then. "And welcome to our family, Miss Bennet." He surprised her and pressed a kiss on her cheek then before releasing her hand.

"Thank you, Captain," she looked and saw that Douglas was sitting with Mary in the Bennet pew and talking to her in that animated way that boys of that age do.

"My dearest," said D'Arcy to her and drew her towards the altar where Reverend Winthrop still waited. Her father had recovered his feet and stood there as well. Her cousin, Mr. Collins, had flown the coop and was nowhere to be seen.

"I strongly oppose this marriage and will raise my own objections during this ceremony," said Mr. Bennet.

"You may raise them, Sir," said Captain D'Arcy, "but they will not be valid."

"I am your master," Mr. Bennet turned to Reverend Winthrop, "I order you to not perform this ceremony."

"I believe God is my master, Sir, and I will do my duty as I see fit," answered the curate. "Besides, I do believe the Earl," and he nodded towards the Earl who sat next to Grandfather Bennet, "is the master of the living of St. Albans and if you see fit to meddle today then I shall simply seek another position with his help—after I have performed the ceremony."

"Son, sit down," called Grandfather Bennet. Mr. Thomas Bennet turned to look at his frail father, leaning slightly to one side in the Earl's pew, so feeble and frail, not a vision of power and, as always, a man who was waiting for death to reunite him with his wife. A policy he did not understand. Next to him was a man with a title and no money and yet blessed with two sons. Thomas Bennet turned to walk down the aisle and left the church and returned to Longbourn.

"May I remind people this is a house of God," Reverend Winthrop called out, "so please behave accordingly," and he joined Lisette Bennet and Gauthier D'Arcy in matrimony.

The ceremony was civil but there were quite the cheers, however, when the couple left the church with the combined crowd of Le Cerf Blanc and The Elinor crewman waiting for them outside. Catcalls for a kiss were met with protests at first by Captain D'Arcy who turned pink with all the attention, but he finally gave in, took his bride in his arms and gave her a chaste kiss to tumultuous applause.

The Earl of Pett's carriage was waiting there just as it had been waiting in Dover for the arrival of Captain D'Arcy's ship and it escorted the bride and groom, the Earl and the bride's grandfather to Longbourn for their wedding breakfast. Friends, Meryton neighbors and many, many crew men followed as well in other carriages or on foot.

Mrs. Bennet welcomed a large crowd at Longbourn, far larger than had been anticipated beyond the small number of Meryton neighbors who had sat in the pews of St. Albans and watched the figures up near the altar with many whispered comments, wide-eyed stares and eventually broad-faced grins at the triumph of love. Like Jeannette's wedding breakfast the celebrations lasted far beyond the appointed time and continued well into the afternoon and evening.

Mr. Bennet was not seen during that day of celebrations but someone commented that they stumbled in accidentally and had seen him sitting in his study behind that large desk as though if he maintained such an attitude it would prove to the world that he was a man of importance.

While their friends and neighbors stayed to celebrate well into the night they did gather to wish the couple well as they departed for the ship docked in the port at Dover. Madame and Captain D'Arcy left with sufficient time for Le Cerf Blanc to sail on the evening tide for Le Havre.

Lisette once again sailed with little luggage but as she walked up the gangplank she considered she was, for once, assured of the best accommodations on board ship. Rather than a single port window, she knew she would wake in that big-enough-for-two bed to gaze out of an expanse of windows that ran the entire width of the ship to welcome the morning sun.


	36. Chapter 36

Epilog

* * *

Lisette stood watching the small office and her friend. Her happiness was apparent to any passersby, was a contagious thing that brought a spring to a step when a man was otherwise intent on an errand he would glance at the lady with the tall escort by her side, smile, and continue on with a lightness to his stride and a lift to his countenance.

"I am ready," she told her husband and they crossed over to the office where clerks bustled about and Monsieur Dujardin could be seen at his desk within. He stood and came to the door with a paper in his hand, unhappy, apparently, over its news.

"Monsieur Dujardin," she called out to him.

"Louis!" He called looking up and then his face froze, the paper fluttered out of his hand—he took two steps back inside his office to sit down at his desk all the while staring at her. "You are not Louis."

"I am Louis," she gave a little bow, "but I am also Lisette." And then she curtsied.

Monsieur Dujardin still sat in his chair and stared up at her, blank faced and unsure. Lisette came to stand in the same spot next to his desk where she had been all those months before.

"Monsieur, I assure you I am the same person you knew and rescued from a tree and I do owe you an explanation. My name then was Lisette Bennet," she thought she saw a flicker of recognition cross his face at the name, "but I am married now and I am Lisette D'Arcy. This is my husband, Captain D'Arcy."

Captain D'Arcy stepped forward and his presence brought out something in Monsieur Dujardin who stood finally and shook hands in greeting with him though still with a dazed look.

"Perhaps Monsieur Dujardin, you might dine with us?" Invited Captain D'Arcy. Monsieur Dujardin accepted the invitation, closing up his little office.

There was much to discuss though the delicacy of Lisette's early adventures were tackled diplomatically and Lisette thanked her friend again and again for his companionship in her first days on her own in fleeing from the trials of being under lock and key. Monsieur Dujardin was understandably embarrassed to discover his companion had been a girl in disguise but as she was now safely married he grew more comfortable and the meal and the discussion lengthened as D'Arcy and Dujardin talked more and more of shared interests. D'Arcy's family villa was in Rouen where Dujardin was originally from—and where Lisette and Gauthier were to visit next—and they shared many acquaintance.

They parted in the late afternoon after a pleasant and long day of conversation. And Monsieur Dujardin dutifully restored the Briard Family emeralds to Lisette.

* * *

The Earl of Pett proved a most useful neighbor, not only in having answered Grandfather's Bennet's summons for help, but when John Lucas had difficulty finding a living after receiving his ordination, the Earl was able to help. He had contacts and was able to secure John a decent living in Sussex since the living at St. Albans was currently filled.

Cousin Collins had been persuaded to be ordained and to take the living at St. Albans by Mr. Bennet so that he might be close to Longbourn with the idea that he would give that up when he married Lisette. The living was under the will of the Earl of Pett though once given it was the incumbent's for life. Reverend Winthrop was a curate hired at Mr. Bennet's expense to perform parish rites so that Mr. Collins did not actually have to do any work himself. Mr. Collins found himself suddenly saddled with either paying Mr. Winthrop's expenses himself, or having to take on the work of marrying, sermonizing and burying the parishioners of St. Albans as Mr. Bennet withdrew all of his financial support. Reverend Mr. Collins took on this reprehensible burden, remaining in the vicarage in Meryton since he was faced with a rather large number of bills to pay now that he was his own master. It was not the life he had imagined.

His master, Mr. Thomas Bennet, moved out of Longbourn and took a house in London. His father, Mr. James Bennet, moved back from the Dowager House and took possession once again, of Longbourn. He had hoped and reckoned for a thousand and one more days and he lived to see at least that many when he had his beloved granddaughters to bring him joy.

Mrs. Bennet was at last able to see her grandchild, that beautiful granddaughter who took after her mother, Jeannette, and she enjoyed a long stay with her daughter and Mr. Bingley. No word was ever heard from Lydie and Georges Gaspard despite Madam D'Arcy's father-in-law working to hunt them down at her request.

Théophile D'Arcy was disappointed but philosophic about Gauthier D'Arcy's not becoming a diplomat and wishing to remain on his ship. He had had some small successes and the senior D'Arcy was pleased with those diplomatic triumphs. Besides which, Marcel seemed eager to take on this family trade, so to speak. The entire family welcomed Lisette into their fold and she enjoyed her time there whenever she visited. She had imagined a diplomatic household to be serious and cold, all business-like but found it warm and loving, though often it was always busy and over-flowing with people. She could, at least, ride if she needed a release from the demands of so much society.

One person not so enchanted with Lisette and D'Arcy's marriage was Douglas FitzWilliam-Blake. He had decided he wanted his father to remarry and had whispered that desire in FitzWilliam-Blake's ear during their tea that day in Portsmouth and that he though both ladies acceptable but Lisette was, of course, prettier. Lisette's marriage left Miss Bacon still available to be wooed by his father. But Miss Bacon did not remain Miss Bacon much longer.

To Sir William and Lady Lucas' relief their eldest son decided to finally take a bride, a bookish bride that was such a perfect fit everyone wondered why they ever thought to doubt he would find a wife. Captain FitzWilliam-Blake was invited to the wedding and reacquainted with Mr. Lucas' sister, Charlotte. They had met briefly at the D'Arcy's wedding but that had been such a hurried affair. He had arrived to only really enjoy the wedding breakfast before he, his crew and Douglas, assured of Miss Bennet's, now Madame D'Arcy, and Miss Bacon's safety, had returned to Portsmouth and ensured Douglas was not overly late in returning for the Spring term. But FitzWilliam-Blake had more time to sit with this intelligent and well-read lady and got to know her at the engagement ball and at the small parties before the Bacon/Lucas wedding, and the captain decided to follow his cousin, though with far less drama, into matrimony. His wife was content to remain in port, be an anchor for Douglas and him to revolve around which was so unlike his cousin's wife.

Lisette sailed with her husband whenever she wished, especially on any voyages around France and England. She sometimes opted to stay at the D'Arcy Villa with her father-in-law—and to ride—especially if Captain D'Arcy had a route that sailed too near corsair-held waters.

* * *

A/N: Thank you to everyone who stuck with me and enjoyed this little melodrama and left such delightful reviews. I believe I wrote it as an antidote for having written a tragedy before. My next story is to be a straight historical story based on a single line in Austen: "Netherfield Park is let at last." It explores the "at last," backstory as to why it took so long to get Netherfield Park leased and diverges from the original in multiple ways. I have about 10,000 words down and probably will not begin posting until after I go on and come back from vacation in late June. I may do this as a NaNoWriMo Camp attempt in July to see how quickly I can steam through it.

I love it when all of my little plot birds land on that wire and line up in a row all neat and tidy. This story came together quite easily as though I was shuffling a deck of cards; I did not struggle with writer's block except for my hurricane (it was too long and I cut it in half), at the governor's ball (I had a cat fight between Sol and Lisette that was also cut as it did not further the plot) and in attempting to figure out who would kidnap our heroine and return her to her father (that stalled me for quite a while).

This is not historically accurate though I do always try to make my stories as accurate as possible. Esteban Rodríguez Miró _was_ governor of the Louisiana Territory at the time but at no time did he go missing in 1785. The de Granadas were entirely my creation. And while I have sort of portrayed the Spanish as incompetent in my story I have to say they were actually very good at administration. In researching the British, French and Spanish in the New World it was intriguing to read how differently they approached their expansion into these territories. The British were very agrarian, established small holdings, farms and port cities and sent back the fruits of their labors. The French raped the land for want of a better term, trapping for beaver, mining for gold (none), silver (some) and taking whatever resources they could get, finally establishing huge industrial plantations for cotton and indigo and sending it home to Paris. The Spanish did all of those but they created some great architecture and established schools, churches, ensured there were sewers laid in cities, firefighters were on the city staff and that there were police: laying down all of that underlying backbone pieces that are so needed to ensure a society survives.

Since this was a cross-over with Naughty Marietta, one scene I never quite figured out how to incorporate was after Marietta arrives in New Orleans and realizes she does not wish to be a casket girl (and must marry a local man, a condition of the girls coming to New Orleans) she begs off by saying she does not meet the requirements because she is "naughty" i.e. not of good moral character. In the Jeanette MacDonald movie she briefly sets herself up as a courtesan (and Captain Warrington (Darcy) is her first customer) before running away to work with Signor Rodolfo the puppeteer but I could not see Lisette/Elisabeth Bennet ever going so far as that so left that scene out.

I must confess that Cousin Collins' wedding suit was not my creation but a description of an actual museum piece I found on Google images; men at that time actually dressed in such garish colors.

* * *

Some of my favorite bits:

I liked Gérard. I created him to set up the standard of Frenchmen as a foil to stoic and stuffy Englishmen. I fear if I was Lisette I would probably have married him, or at least have slept with him and then never would have left to meet Captain D'Arcy.

I love that the entire Le Cerf Blanc crew was pulling for Lisette and the Captain to be together (except maybe Carbonneau). Actually I loved the whole damn story arc when they are together on his ship. I believe I wrote that entire arc in one week I was so inspired.

The tension between Lisette and her corsair tormentor flowed well and one reviewer asked that they come back (sorry!). He was a good bad guy. I am not sure how I did that.

I liked Papa Rodolfo; she needed a good father figure since Mr. Bennet was not going to change. I am sorry there was no reconciliation. One of the reviewers said she hoped for that, but every story needs a villain.

Thank you,

SixThings


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